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DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


BY 

EDITH F. A. U. PAINTON 

Author of The Value of X 
Specialty Entertainments for Little Folks 
Polly in History-Land 
The Prize Essay 





BECKLEY-CARDY COMPANY 

CHICAGO 







COPYRIGHT 1917 BY BECKLEY-CARDY COMPANY 
ALL BIGHTS BESERVED 


✓ 



©CI.A481257 



DEC 31 1317 

y 






CONTENTS 




PAGE 

A Welcome . 5 

6 boys, 6 girls 

Studying for a Test_... 9 

4 girls 

Writing a School Play. 13 

4 girls, 2 boys 

Organizing a Society. 19 

5 girls, 3 boys 

The Popular Dick. 25 

4 girls, 5 boys 

Isabel’s Poem . 34 

3 girls, 2 boys 

The Ba^rnies’ Saturday Night. 38 

2 girls , 1 boy 

Rehearsing the Program. 51 

3 girls, 1 boy 

Boyhood Friends . 57 

3 boys 

Boy Heroes . 59 

5 boys 

Murdering the Language. 65 

6 girls, 6 boys 

The Lost Colors. 72 

2 girls, 1 boy 

The Camp-Fire Girl. 85 

3 girls, 1 boy 

A Country Cousin. 96 

2 girls, 1 boy 

Like His Namesake. 101 

11 boys 
3 



























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DIALOGUES AND PLAYS FOR 
ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


A WELCOME 

Characters : Six boys and six girls. 

Boys enter , take positions in line. 

All [ together,—bow right] : 

Good afternoon, ladies! 

[Bow left] : 

Good afternoon, gentlemen! 

First Boy: 

We ’re glad we can bid you all welcome again! 
Second Boy : 

The girls always do it! 

Third Boy : 

They mean to, to-day! 

Fourth Boy : 

But we got the start of them once, anyway! 

Fifth Boy : 

They ’ll be disappointed! 

All [nodding] : 

Of course! 

Sixth Boy : 

But who cares? 

Don’t we boys need some chances for putting on airs? 
Fifth Boy: 

They think we ’re just boys! 

All [indignantly] : 


5 


Yes, just boys! 


6 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Fourth Boy : 


Oh, gee! 


Third Boy : 

Just because we can’t wear nice white dresses, you see! 
Second Boy: 

And curls ! 

Third Boy : 


Yes, and ribbons! 


Second Boy: 


And fix up so fine! 


First Boy : 

But we can speak pieces and not miss a line! 

Fourth Boy : 

So this time we’ve beat them, dear friends, and we say— 
First Boy: 

Come, boys,—all together! 

All [bowing low] : 


You are welcome to-day! 


[Exeunt Boys as Girls enter hurriedly, as if late. Girls 
appear greatly surprised.] 


First Girl: 


/ 


Just look at that crowd, girls 
Second Girl: , 


They all seem at ease! 


r /Third Girl : 


What caii-it all mean? 
First Girl: ’ 



Yon tell that, if you please! 


Fourth Girl : 

*, t ? ~ I don’t think they looked for 
I^'Fifth Girl: 


us now, girls, do you ? - 


They must have been welcomed! 
All [clasping hands in dismay] : 


Oh!!! 




FOR ENTERTAINMENT 


Sixth Girl {looking at each in turn ] : 

Fifth Girl : 

Those boys! 

Fourth Girl: 


Could they do it? 

Third Girl: 


DAYS 4, 7 

What can we do ? 


Why, they ’re only boys,— 
And what could they do but just make a big noise? 
Second Girl: 

They must have been here! 

First Girl: 

Oh, that’s just what they did! 

Third Girl : 

They came and said welcome, and then— 

All [in disgust ] : 

—Ran and hid! 

Fourth Girl : 

Well, never mind, girls! 

Fifth Girl: 

But it just isn’t fair! 

Sixth Girl: 

Well, we can just show them that we didn’t care! 

All [ eagerly ] : 

Let’s do! 

Fourth Girl: 

To be sure! 

Third Girl: 

We ’ll go right ahead with our plan. 
And make them ashamed of themselves, if we can! 


Second Girl: 

We ’ll just show the people that it’s very true, 
How very much better we girls always do! 

All the Girls [bowing low ]': 

The boys have bid you welcome, friends, 


8 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


As we can plainly see, 

We now will show how doubly so 
We girls would have you be! 

Of course they thought, when they got through, 

All chance for us was past, 

But though they had the first word here, 

We ’re bound to have the last. 

[All bow low again and march off proudly .] 



STUDYING FOE A TEST 


Characters : Four girls. 

Scene: School platform, with flat-top desk and four chairs. 
Edith enters alone , with books, tablets, and pencils. 

Edith : Algebra test to-morrow, and I don’t know any more 
about the sum of x and y than I did six weeks ago! 
I certainly must study very, very hard this evening. I 
must work out and prove every single one of these forty- 
nine problems before I dare think of sleep. I’m glad 
I ’ve such a nice long evening all to myself. [Sits at desk, 
begins to work. Pause of some length. Knock at door.] 
Dear me! who can it be ? 

Alice [sticking head in]: May I come in, Edith? [Comes in.] 
I’ve just got to study for that algebra test, and I can’t 
get at anything over home. Everybody’s talking about 
everything but algebra, and I— 

Edith: Of course. Make yourself at home. [Moves things 
on desk to make room.] I’ve got to work hard, too, so 
nobody will bother you. Pull up that chair. 

Alice [getting chair and sitting at desk] : It ’s too sweet of 
you! [Pause.] I say, Edith— 

Edith: Yes! 

Alice: Did you get a bid to Clara’s party? 

Edith [keeping at ivork] : Of course! 

Alice : Going ? 

Edith [still working] : Sure! 

Alice : What are you going to wear ? 

Edith [as before , but impatiently] : White! 

Alice : Do you think— 


9 


10 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Edith: Please, Alice, let us stick to our algebra. I am away 
behind in it, and I simply must work. 

Alice: Well, mustn’t I, too? But can’t we— 

Edith [aloud, emphatically] : 2x plus 4xy, minus 3y— 

Dorothy enters. 

Dorothy: I didn’t stop to knock, Edith. I know you’d be 
at home stuffing that brain of yours. Oh, hello, Alice, you 
here, too? 

Alice: Looks like it, doesn’t it? 

Dorothy : I do seem to get that impression. What are you 
doing ? Studying ? 

Alice [showing books, etc.] : Looks like it, doesn’t it? 

Dorothy: Another impression I seem to get. Well, well, 
I won’t bother you very long. I just wanted to ask 
what you are going to wear to the party ? 

Edith: Hadn’t you just as soon wait till to-morrow night, 
Dorothy, to talk it all over? I have to take a hard test 
in the morning and I must study to-night! 

Dorothy : Oh, of course, if I’m not welcome— 

Edith : Dorothy! You know better than to take it that way. 
But you’ve no idea how busy I am to-night. 

Dorothy [turning to Alice] : Work away! 

Alice: What are you going to wear, Dorothy? 

Dorothy : Oh, mamma’s making me the loveliest new blue 
silk. It’s the prettiest thing. What’s yours ? 

Alice: Pink chiffon with cream lace. 

Dorothy : How sweet it must be! 

Alice: Wait till you see it. 

Edith : Girls, could n’t you please keep a little more quiet ? 
I just can’t keep my mind on my work at all. 

Alice: Yes, yes, Edith. We ’ll whisper. [They whisper for 
a while. Knock.] 

Edith [resignedly] : Come in ! 

Laura enters with very beautiful dress. 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


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Laura: Well, Edith, I didn’t know you had company. I 
just came over to show you my new dress for Clara’s 
party. Mamma has just finished it. [ Holds it up against 
her to show it off to best advantage. All jump up.] 

Edith : O Laura! What a beauty! 

Alice : Is n’t it a perfect dream ? 

Dorothy [taking it and examining closely] : You ’ll look like 
a rose in it. 

Laura: I was just going to try it on, but I thought maybe 
Edith would like to come over and help me, so I ran 
over here first. Can’t you come, Edith? 

Edith: I’m awfully sorry, Laura. I ’d love to, if I didn’t 
have this test to prepare for. But I’m so poor in algebra, 
I simply mustn’t waste a minute this evening. [Re¬ 
sumes seat and work.] 

Laura [turns to other girls] : Can you girls come? [Edith 
looks up at Alice.] 

Alice [catches Edith’s eye, and hesitates ]:' I—I—I am 
studying for that test, too, Laura. I came over here 
because there was too much going on at home to distract 
my mind. 

Laura: I see. Too bad. How about you, Dorothy? 

Dorothy : Oh, I’m only too glad to come. There’s never 
any test for me like the test of a new dress. I’m dying 
to see how you look in it! 

Laura: Come on, then. [Mockingly.] Good-night, students! 

Alice } : Good-night! 

[Exeunt Laura and Dorothy.] 

Alice [after a pause]: Isn’t it the darlingest dress? 

Edith [working] : Yes. 

Alice [after another pause] : Wish I had one just like it. 
[No answer. Pause.] Mine is very pretty, but not so 
rich as hers. [No answer. Pause.] Her mother surely 
does know how to make the swellest clothes, doesn’t 


12 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


she? [No answer. Pause. At last, Alice rises.] Oh, 
pshaw, Edith! I can’t get head or tail to this studying 
now. I’m going over to Laura’s. I’m crazy to see her 
in that dress. [Starts for door.] Good-night! 

Edith [who has been working ratpidly, even furiously, with 
lips closed tightly] : Good—no, wait a minute! I ’ll 
go with you. [Jumps up.] I can’t see anything but that 
dress, either. 

Alice [at door, looking back gayly]: Good-bye, algebra! 

Edith [with a sigh] : Till to-morrow! 

[Exeunt Alice and Edith.] 


WRITING A SCHOOL PLAY 

Characters : Four girls and two boys. 

Scene : Platform in schoolroom , with desk and six chairs. 

Enter Maud, Clara, Hattie, and Grace, each carrying heavy 
load of play books. 

Maud [throwing books on desk with a bang] : I have read 
through all these plays, but I can’t find a single thing 
we can use! 

Clara [throwing down books]: Nor I! 

Hattie [throwing down books] : Nor I! 

Grace [throwing down books] : Nor I! [All sit and begin 
to laugh. After a pause, Grace wipes eyes.] Maybe 
it’s funny, but I can’t see the joke! Our last day is 
only four weeks off! 

Hattie : I know it. I’m sure I feel more like crying than 
laughing, but— 

Clara : We all did look so funny! 

Maud: Even if we did feel so glummy! I do wish Miss 
Whitney had n’t left it all in our hands. 

All [sighing] : Don’t I? 

Clara: But she did! 

All [sighing] : She did! 

Hattie: But what can we do? 

Grace: Laugh, of course! 

Maud: Or cry! 

Clara: We can take our choice, of course, but neither will 
provide us with a play. 

Grace: And such trash as that [pointing to pile of plays ] 
makes my very heart sick! 

Hattie [after a pause]: I ’ 11 tell you what we 9 11 do! 

13 


14 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


All [eagerly] : What? 

Hattie [importantly] : Write one. 

All [ amazed ]: What? 

Hattie: I mean it. We can, if we try. 

Maud: But who? You? 

Hattie: All of us. I couldn’t do it alone, of course, but, 
surely, the four of us— 

Grace : And ‘ ‘ Thank heaven there’s no more of us! ’ ’ 
Maud: Hush, Grace! I don’t know but you are right, Hat¬ 
tie. I wonder if we could n’t! 

Clara: I don’t see why not. We all get perfectly splendid 
marks on our compositions. 

Maud : But, of course, a play—well, it’s a little different! 
Grace : Just a little ! 

Maud : Still, I think we can do it. Let’s get a stack of 
pencils and paper and begin right away. 

All [jumping up] : Let ’s ! [Each provides herself with 
pencil and paper.] 

Maud [as they resume seats] : All ready? [All nod.] Well, 
what shall we write about ? 

All [shaking heads] : Don’t know! 

Clara [biting end of pencil] : I can’t think of a thing! 
Grace [tapping paper nervously with pencil] : Neither can I. 
Hattie [sighing, scratching head with end of pencil] : I can 
think of a hundred things—but they won’t do! 

Maud: We must have something easy to learn. 

Clara : And easy to make scenes for. , 

Grace: And easy to dress. 

Hattie : And easy to act! 

Maud [dramatically] : Can it, oh can it, be easy to write? 

Enter Roy and Harry. 

Roy: Well, what’s going on here? A test? 

Clara : Worse! 

Harry: Heavens! What can it be? 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


15 


Grace [importantly] : We ’re writing our school play. 
Harry: Honest, are you? 

Maud: We ’re trying to, boys. 

Hattie: Do be good and help us. 

Roy [sitting] : Sure we will! 

Harry [sitting] : We ’re the helpers from Helpersville. 
Roy : What’s the name of the play ? 

Harry : And what’s the plot ? 

Roy : Who’s the hero ? 

Harry: And who’s the villain? [Pause. No answer.] 
Roy [looking over Hattie’s shoulder] : Come, girls, why 
don’t you tell us what it’s about ? 

Maud : We—don’t know! 

Roy [jumping up] : Don’t know? 

Grace: No. You see, we haven’t got that far. 

Clara: We haven’t made up our minds. 

Harry [whistles] : Whew! Some play this! We ’ll have to 
name it ourselves. 

Roy: Sure! Let’s call it “Bloody Pete from Death Val¬ 
ley.” 

Girls [shuddering] : Ugh! 

Harry: Don’t like that? How about “Dynamite Bill, the 
Terror of Murderers’ Gulch?” 

Maud: Please don’t, boys. We must write this play. 

Roy: May I be the hero? 

Harry: And may I be the villain? 

Maud: Yes, yes, anything, if you’ll only— 

Grace: But why must we have a villain? 

Clara : That’s what I say. Why not a sweet, clean little 
country play? You boys could be rivals, for—oh, for 
something or other— 

Hattie: One rich and one poor, you know. 

Harry : I ’ll be the rich one. 

Maud : All right. The poor one always wins the prize, you 
know. 


16 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Harry: Not really? 

Grace: Well, always in stories and plays, anyway. 

Harry [dramatically]: Alas! I have chosen the smaller 
part! 

Clara : But we don ’t seem to be getting along very fast, do 
we? We haven’t even got a title— 

Hattie : To say nothing of a plot! 

Grace : Oh, say! Let ’s have a dude— 

Roy [strutting about, dude fashion] : That’s me! 

Maud: And a negro— 

Harry [shrinking back in chair] : Not me! 

Clara: You must be the heroine, Hattie. You have such 
a lovely smile. 

Hattie : Oh, no!—you! Your hair ’s so pretty. 

Grace: But Maud has such nice eyes! 

Maud : And your voice is so sweet, Grace. 

Roy [looking from one to another] : But you can’t all be 
heroines, can you? 

Harry: You’ll have to draw straws. 

Grace [staring at paper ruefully ]: We won’t need any 
heroine if we can’t get a plot. 

Clara : Let’s have a girl who wants to marry one young 
man— 

Harry : That’s me! 

Clara: While her mother wants her to marry the other. 

Roy*. I suppose that’s me. [Sighs.] 

Clara : The girl’s sister can have a fancy for the one her 
mother likes, while the one the girl herself likes must 
be crazy about the sister. 

Roy : Gee! What a mix-up! How can you untangle it ? 

Clara [pencil on lip] : That’s just the trouble. I can’t! 

Harry: But, see here, girls, can’t we leave out all that 
mushy stuff? Can’t we have a plot without any of that 
sort of thing in it? 

Roy: Some school story, for instance—examinations, with 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


17 


papers lost—a hero sick, or hurt playing ball, or some¬ 
thing—or questions stolen—anything that doesn’t have 
the dippy dope you ’re talking about. It makes us fel¬ 
lows feel so foolish to act those parts. 

Maud : That’s a good idea. I don’t see why we can’t. 

Grace : I know we’d all like it better. 

Hattie: All of these printed plays had some such kind of 
story—every single one of them—so we seemed to think 
we had to. 

Clara : It’s lots nicer to be just good friends with boys 
when you can. 

Roy : Good for you, Clara. Girls are a heap nicer when 
they aren’t “soft.” 

Maud [with tone of great patience] : But what about the 
play? 

Hattie: Yes; “the play’s the. thing. ’’ 

Harry: Listen to Hattie, quoting from “Hamlet.” 

Grace: Oh, if Shakespeare were only here! 

Hattie : But he’d be bound to kill us all off in the last act,— 
and that wouldn’t do! 

Maud: No, we want our play funny—with just a little 
seriousness mixed up with it to make it solid—and— . 

Harry : Splendid speeches for all of us. 

Maud: This is all very well; but it seems to me that it’s all 
talk and no play. 

Grace: Yes, and it’s almost time for the bell. 

Hattie : I ’ll tell you! Let’s each draw up a synopsis— 

Roy [ puzzled ] : A sin-up-sis? 

Hattie: No, neither sin-up nor sin-down, sir. I mean a 
plot with a detailed program—an outline, the same as 
you’d write for an essay or oration. 

Harry [ protesting ] : We fellows, too, write those things? 

Girls : Sure! 

Maud: Why not? 

Harry : Say, Roy, what have we got ourselves into ? 


18 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Hattie: Well, lei ’s bring them all in to-morrow, read them 
aloud, and vote upon the best. 

Grace: A good idea! Then we can go right to work and 
write it. It won’t take but a few minutes when we get 
the outline. 

Clara : Of course not. It’s as easy as pie. Why, all these 
plays are just nonsense. Nothing at all to any one of 
them. I know I could beat them. 

All: Sure! [Bell rings.] 

Maud [jumping up, while All follow]: There goes the bell! 
Hurry! To-morrow, then, we ’ll write our play. 

Grace : And have four long weeks to practice! 

All [as they leave stage irregularly] : Good! Good! 


ORGANIZING A SOCIETY 

Characters: Five girls and three bays. 

Scene: Platform with eight chairs and a desk. All enter, 
alone and irregularly, taking secuts and acting awkwardly 
and ill at ease. They drum on chairs, twist about, turirl 
thumbs, and in many ways show nervousness and a desire 
to do something. After a pause, Kate breaks the silence. 

Kate : Say, kids— 

Joe: Who are you talking to? We ’re not of the Capricorn 
family! 

Kate [turning to Irene] : Who’s Capricorn? 

Irene : Never heard of him. Who is he, Joe ? 

Joe: Why, the Goat, of course! She said “kids.” Kids 
are young goats, are n’t they ? 

Mabel: But what were you going to say, Kate? 

Kate : Let’s do something. 

Fred: Well, I’m willing. You say what. 

Kate: Goodness! I don’t know. But Miss Earl won’t be 
here for hours and hours— 

Eva: More or less! 

Irene: Mostly less! 

Fred [looking around crowd] : Who knows something we 
can do? 

Eva: “Puss in the corner?” [All shake heads.] “Drop 
the handkerchief?” [All shake heads.] “Hide-and- 
seek?” [All shake heads.] Then I don’t know. 

George [after a pause, while All think hard] : Why not 
organize a society? 

All: A society? 

Kate [proudly] : All of my folks are in society already. 

Joe : What kind of a society, George ? 

19 


-20 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


George: Oh, one of the kind where they join to get practice 
in reading and writing. [Thinks.] What do they call 
them? 

Eva [eagerly]: Oh, I know! Littery societies. 

Joe : Lit-er-ar-y, Eva. 

Eva : Oh, well! Same thing! 

Fred : Tell us how to do it, George. 

George : I was at one once. First, you have to have a chair¬ 
man— 

Eva : What’s that ? 

George : Why, the man that sits in the chair. 

Eva : But here are eight chairs. 

George: But this is the special seat of the man who tells 
everybody else what to do. 

Kate : That ’ll be you, George. 

George [modestly] : Well, of course, if you all—- 

All : George! George! 

George [rises, moves chair to desk, and sits with air of great 
importance] : Well, then, I ’ll sit here. And, now, some¬ 
body must move— 

All [each jumping up and moving to some other place] : I 

will. 

Joe: We can all move, you see. 

George: Oh, I didn’t mean that. I meant for you to make 
a motion— 

All [with grotesque gestures] : Like this? 

George : No, no! Sit down, please. [All sit, in some con¬ 
fusion. George pounds on table with knife.] Now see! 
When I hit the desk like this, it’s a call to order. 

Eva: To order what? 

George: Dear me, Eva! To order nothing! 

Eva: Then what does it mean? 

George: It means to come to order. 

Eva [feels hair, etc.] : Aren’t we in order? I thought I 
looked rather neat, and I’m sure the others— 


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21 


George: Oh, you don’t understand. It just means to keep 
still and behave. 

Eva: But haven’t we &ee?i-have? 

George: Yes, yes! But you mustn’t talk out loud, you 
know— 

Eva: Humph! Just like-being in school. 

Irene: Well, what do we do next? 

Fred: How in the world do you want your motions made? 
I never was in society. 

George : Why, you just stand up and say what you want— 

All [rising eagerly ] : I want— 

George: Oh, no, no! Sit down, please. [All sit , confusedly.] 
I mean, what you want to have done* in the society. 

Mabel [ rising[: Well, I want Irene, and Eva, and Fred, 
and— 

George: No, no. Sit down, Mabel. [She sits down in em¬ 
barrassment.] You must first address the chair— 

Mabel : What chair ? 

George [tapping back of chair] : Why, this one. The chair¬ 
man’s chair. 

Mabel : What a foolish idea! 

Eva : Whoever heard of talking to a chair ? 

Mabel [seated] : Well, good morning, chair. 

George : Oh, but that’s not the way. 

Kate: Well, dear me! Who in the world knows the right 
way to talk to a chair ? 

George: Why, you must just say “Mr. Chairman.” 

Fred : That’s you. 

George *. Of course. 

Fred: All right. Mr. Chairman— 

George : But you have to stand up, Fred. 

Kate: Goodness! What a fuss about nothing! 

Fred: Well, I’ll put it through, or die trying. [Rises.] 
Mr. Chairman! 

George: Mr. Johnson. 


22 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Fred : What ? 

George: Why, I was just giving you the floor. What were 
you going to say? 

Fred: Er—er—good morning. 

George: No. You must say “I move.’ , 

Fred [steppimg awkwardly to one side with hamd raised] : 
I move— 

George: Well, what do you move? 

Fred: Why, why, I don’t know. I guess I don’t move at 
all. [Sits.] 

George: But wait, Fred. Get up again. You have the floor. 
Use it. 

Fred [holds up hands in bewilderment, and looks at them] : 
The floor ? Where ? 

George: Why, I mean—just hold the floor, Fred, till I see 
what my little book says. [Takes book from pocket, 
searching it busily. Fred leans over, with both hands 
on floor. All laugh, causing George to look up.] Why, 
what are you doing? 

Fred [straightening up] : Just trying to hold the floor, as 
you said, though I couldn’t feel it moving. 

George : Pshaw! I merely meant for you to keep standing. 

Fred [rubbing hands on trousers ]: Then why didn’t you 
say so? 

George [reading from book] : Is there any question before 
the house? [Girls rise and run to door or window, to 
look out.] Sit down, girls. The meeting is not ad¬ 
journed. Where are you going? 

Kate: Why, to see if there is any question in front of the 
house, of course. 

Eva: Wasn’t that what you said? 

George: Nonsense! Can’t you girls understand anything 
at all? 

Irene [as girls resume seats] : Not that stuff you ’re talking. 

George: If somebody would only move— 


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23 


Joe: What is the proper thing for a fellow to move, George? 

George: Why, somebody ought to move that we organize 
a society. 

Eva: Goodness! Haven’t we got ourselves organized yet? 

Irene: Why, of course! [Rises.] I move that we organize 
a society. [Sits ivith air of pride.] 

George: But you didn’t address the chair. 

Irene: Pshaw! Mr. Chairman, I move that we organize a 
society. 

Mabel : But you did n’t rise. 

Eva : Can’t anybody in this crowd rise and move at the 
same time? 

Kate [giggling] : We can’t rise without moving. 

George : Order! Order! 

Eva : Order what ? 

George.* Oh, just order—be quiet. 

Eva [to crowd, holding up finger] : Sh! 

Mabel: I do wish— 

George: You’re out of order. 

Mabel [feeling belt, hair, collar, etc.] : How? Where? 

George: You haven’t addressed the chair. 

Mabel : But I don’t understand that business, George. Which 
is the chair? 

Irene: He means himself. 

Mabel [in disgust, to George] : Are you the chair? 

George: Yes, I— 

Fred [jumps up mischievously] : -Boys, I move we sit on the 
chair. That’s what chairs are for! 

Joe [jumping up] : Seconded! [Both grab George good- 
naturedly, throw him to floor, after some slight struggle, 
and sit on him. Girls laugh.] 

George [as soon as he can get his breath] : Will—somebody 
—move— 

Fred: Not yet. 

Joe: But soon! 


24 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Kate [ rising ] : I will, Mr. Chairman. I make a motion that 
we do not organize any society. 

All: Why not? 

Kate : Too poky! 

Irene [looking off] : Besides, here comes— 

[Boys jump up, take seats and look very dignified. 
George brushes clothes, etc.] 

Eva: Miss Earl. [Girls assume dignified positions.] 

Enter Miss Earl. 

Miss Earl: Good morning, children. 

All: Good morning, Miss Earl. 



THE POPULAR DICK 

Characters: Four girls and five boys. 

Scene : A room, with large dictionary on stand in the corner. 
Five chairs arranged about room, in easy positions for 
boys. Another near dictionary. 

The point in the action of this dialogue is to keep some of 
the girls always at dictionary, with the boys always 
watching for a chance, whatever they may say or how¬ 
ever much they may try to seem interested in something 
else. The main thought Jn their minds must not be lost 
sight of. Whenever a girl at dictionary even moves her 
head, they must all look quickly and start to get up, show¬ 
ing great disappointment when they discover it to be a 
u false alarm” This could not be written into the dia¬ 
logue at every point, for it must be brought in naturally, 
but no opportunity must be lost for this work. 

Rena is discovered alone, searching the dictionary, and con¬ 
stantly referring to a paper in her hand. (Take plenty 
of time for this before speaking at all.) 

Rena: H-e-t—h-e-t—h-e-t-e-r— Oh, dear me! Where is H 
anyway ? 

Fred [ entering ] : Just after G, and before I, of course, Rena. 
At least, I’ve never heard of it’s being moved. Most 
through ? 

Rena : Most through ? Why, I’ve fully twenty— 

Mina [entering] : Do hurry up with that dictionary, Rena! 
I’m in a hurry to finish my essay. 

Rena [not looking up from book]: So am I. 

Mina [walking to her, Fred pacing floor] : What word are 
you chasing? 


25 


26 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Rena: Why, it’s — [looks at paper] —“heterogeneous,”— 
“heterogeneousness”—er—something like that! I don’t 
just know! Something with a “h-e-t-e-r”— I just must 
find it! [Resumes search hurriedly.] 

Fred [pausing by them, anxiously] : But, listen, girls, I 
want to look for— 

Lucy [ enters, followed by Ruth] : Ladies first, if you please, 
Fred. I need that dictionary for two straight hours, at 
least, before I can even begin to write my essay. 

Ruth: Me, too! 

[Fred throws himself into chair with deep sigh of resig¬ 
nation, pulls tablet from pocket and begins to 
sharpen pencil.] 

Rena [at dictionary ]: Here it is! “Of a different kind 
and nature”— 

Joe [entering] : That’s us—all of us! 

Lucy*. Be still, Joe. Rena is instructing us in the meaning 
of something or other, and we are all fairly consumed 
with anxiety to know how it comes out. Aren’t we, 
Fred? [He nods, without looking up.] 

Ruth : Me, too! 

Rena [reading to herself] : “Miscellaneous,”—“opposed to 
homogeneous”— 

Lucy [sits on lounge] : Dear me! I ’m sure we ’re all opposed 
to anything like that! 

Joe [sitting] : Sure we are! Too hard to spell! 

Rena : I’ve got it! 

Joe [jumping up in assumed fright] : Is it catching? 

Rena [walks to exit, speaks sarcastically] : Indeed, it isn’t 
—at least, no boy is ever in any danger of catching it. 
It was just—an idea! [Pauses before last sentence , 
and throws it back at him over shoulder as she leaves the 
stage.] 

Lucy: Now, do you think you ’ll lie still — you boys? [Boys 
start for dictionary, but she motions to Ruth.] Go ahead, 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


27 


Ruth. Your turn. [Boys sigh, and resume seats with 
martyred air.] 

Ruth [ uncertainly, eyeing Boys, timidly] : Thanks, Lucy; 
but you see, I’ve about a dozen words to look up. 
[Searches paper in hand.] 

Lucy: Don’t stop to count them. Just help yourself to the 
bread of wisdom. 

Fred [dryly] : Yes, Ruth—and don’t bother to hurry. We ’re 
in no rush. 

Joe : We have all the time there is, you know. 

Lucy: Don’t pay any attention to them, Ruth. We must 
always remember they are only boys and don’t know any 
better than— [Ruth searches dictionary.] 

Lyman [entering] : Somebody ahead of me? 

Joe: Several somebodies, it seems to me. [Counts, while 
pointing at each in turn.] One, two, three— 

Lyman : Oh, never mind about that. I just wanted to 
consult old Dick— 

Joe: So do we, but— [Suggestive wave of hands at Girls.] 

Lucy : It is n’t what you want in this world; it’s what you 
get. Take a seat, Lyman. [Siveetly.] Take your time, 

Ruth. 

Joe: Sit down, Lyman. Always do as the girls advise. 
They ’re sure to be right. Just help yourself to a chair 
and be as miserable as we are. [Enter Paul and Will.] 
Here come two more pilgrims along the road to Wisdom. 
Were you also in search of words, boys, or did you just 
get lonesome— 

Paul: Just wanted a chance at Dick, boys. It won’t take 
me a minute— 

Boys [all] : Humph! 

Joe: .Poor innocent youth! Who hath deluded thee? That 
dictionary—the desirable Dick—thou mayst never reach ! 
Sit down and rest thy weary brain. 

Will : But, you see, these essays— 


28 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Fred : That ’s where you ’re mistaken, too. We don’t see 
these essays. 

Paul: You won’t, either, unless you turn yourself into a 
second Webster and define these words— 

Fred: Not me! 

Joe: Get somebody else. 

Lyman : Nothing like that in my family! 

[Ruth leaves dictionary. Boys rush that way, but Lucy 
calmly takes her place. Boys resume seats, shaking 
heads despairingly .] 

Joe [to Paul and Will] : Better sit down, boys. It’s just 
as cheap and “it’s a long, long way to dictionary.” 

Will [sitting reluctantly] : But how long— 

Lyman : Ask us something easy. 

Fred : “It may be for years, and it may be forever.’’ Why 
not “let patience have her perfect work?” 

Enter Mina. 

Mina: Well, I declare! Is this a meeting of some kind? 

Will [waving hand] : Consult the dictionary. 

Paul: In other words, ask Dick! 

Mina : That’s what I came for, but I see Lucy and Ruth— 
over there— 

Joe: Yes, and you will continue to see Lucy and Ruth over 
there— 

Mina: But will nothing move them? 

Joe: We boys might try our largest smiles on them— 

Lucy [over shoulder, with frown ] : Do be still, boys. This 
is important. 

Fred : So we thought once; but now— What are mere words, 
anyway? They ’re made up of nothing but common, 
everyday letters, and— 

Lyman: Yes, but what letters?—that’s the question. . And 
who can tell us but Dick ? And how can we know—- 

Mina : Speaking of words, they ’re the most important things 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


29 


in all the world. If it were not for words, how could we 
ever have learned anything? 

Joe [ with mock sigh] : And how could we ever have written 
any essays? 

Paul: We wouldn’t have been asked to. 

[Lucy finishes at dictionary, and starts down. Roys rise 
and start for dictionary. Lucy beckons to Mina.] 

Lucy: You’re next, Mina. Come, Ruth. 

[Ruth rises, and they walk toward front, while Mina 
goes to dictionary. Boys look from one to another, 
shaking heads.] 

Will [t'easingly] : 

Oh, would I were a girl, 

With hair of dainty curl, 

With eyes of blue 
And dainty shoe, 

And brain all in a whirl. 

Joe [ intercepting Lucy and Ruth at exit] : Don’t hurry 
away, ladies. Surely there must be another word or two 
in the English language about whose meaning you are 
not absolutely certain. Dick will tell you. He will be 
only too glad to tell you. Don’t hesitate to occupy the 
time, you know, if— 

Ruth: We won’t, thank you. But I think we know it all 
now. 

Fred: Nothing like a little conceit to help a girl— 

Joe : Devour the dictionary! 

Lucy: Come on, Ruth. Don’t let them bother you. They 
can’t help being only boys! [Leads Ruth out, haughtily.] 

Mina [at dictionary] : Let me see— [consults paper] — 
“orbieulated.” O-r-b—o-r-b—what’s the use of such a 
word, anyhow? 

Joe : There seems to be plenty just now in keeping us sepa¬ 
rated from our good friend Dick for another weary hour. 

Fred : Somebody or other wrote once in a book, or a poem, 


30 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


or a play, or something or other like that: “We live by 
deeds, not words.” He surely could never have come 
up against a situation like this. 

Mina [looking over shoulder, smiling sweetly] : Oh! did you 
boys want to use the dictionary ? 

Joe: Oh, not at all! not at all! 

Mina : I’m ever so glad, because, you see, I have two or 
three more words— 

Boys [sinking back in chairs with groans] : Oh! 

Fred: But, after all, boys, words seem very important to 
us just now when we can’t find them out! 

Will: I know, but still they can’t be as important as deeds. 
It isn’t what folks say that counts; it’s what they do. 

Lyman : Well, now, if I had a deed to that dictionary, I’d 
do— 

Joe: By the way, why wouldn’t that be a good subject for 
us to debate on next time? 

Paul : What subject ? 

Joe : Let ’s see ! How would we put it ?—‘ ‘ Resolved, that 
deeds are more important than words.” 

Lyman : The way we ’re chasing words just now, I ’m afraid 
we’d all want to argue on the same side. 

Paul : That’s right. The words in that dictionary are cer¬ 
tainly important enough just now. 

Will: But the girls’ deeds in getting there ahead of us have 
been more powerful, that’s sure. 

Joe : I ’ll tell you how we can manage. Let us boys take 
the affirmative. We’d all be in for deeds—if we had the 
chance—while the girls are certainly after words. 

Fred: They always like to use lots of words—especially 
Mina—so, of course, they’d be glad to take that side. We 
boys can just win the debate without half trying. 

Will : Still, the one who used the best and most convincing 
words would win. 

Mina [turning from dictionary] : What’s all this but words, 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


31 


words, words, words?—always big words about what 
you ’re going to do! But when it comes to the doing— 

Joe [making for dictionary] : Pardon me, but were you— 

Rena [enters hurriedly] : I forgot a word—a very important 
word—and— What? All you boys here yet? [Hurries 
to dictionary.] 

Fred [as Boys drop to chairs in disgust] : I believe we are, 
Rena. 

Joe*. Looks like it! 

Will: Girls may come, and girls may go, but we stay on 
forever. 

Mina : And what do you think they ’re doing, Rena ? 

Rena [over shoulder] : I ’ve not the sign of an idea. They ’re 
capable of almost anything, I guess. 

Mina: They have been planning a debate; and what do 
you think they have decided? 

Rena [as before] : Again, I must refuse to think at all. 

Mina: They are arranging for a discussion as to which is 
the most—I mean the more—important, deeds or words— 

Joe [winking at boys] : Mina can get a position anywhere, 
teaching grammar. 

Mina: Thank you, Joe. Just what I want. But do listen, 
Rena. 

Rena [as before]: Am! 

Mina : They are to argue for deeds, and we girls for words. 

Rena [turning] : Plumph! And do they think their words 
all sufficient to decide such an important question? Were 
we not even to be‘consulted? [Looks sternly at each 
boy in turn, who hangs head.] 

Mina: It seems not, according to the few words I—over¬ 
heard. 

Rena [thoughtfully] : Well, there is plenty of argument on 
both sides of that question, but— [waves hand toward dic¬ 
tionary] —I’m too busy even to think of it now. 

Fred [with sigh] : That very important word is still lost. 


32 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Joe: Let’s get out an ad.—“Lost, strayed, or stolen,—an 
important word. Finder please return to the dictionary, 
or leave with Miss Rena—” 

Rena: Boys! boys! how can I find it if you won’t keep 
quiet ? 

Ruth [enters hurriedly ]: I find that there’s just another 
word or two— 

Boys: 0 gee! 

Fred : Can there still be one left in the book ? 

Ruth [walking to Rena] : Mayn’t I have it next, Rena? 

Rena: Of course, Ruth. Help yourself. [Walks toward 
group thoughtfully .] That subject you suggest isn’t 

such a bad one, boys. Of course, words are very im¬ 
portant. We are proving that now, for the dictionary 
seems the most popular book at school to-day. But 
when we have the words, we must learn to spell them, 
and that sort of turns them into deeds. And some of 
them are certainly none too easy to spell. 

Ruth [over shoulder ]: Say, children, how do you spell 
‘ ‘ iinpecuniosity ? ’ ’ 

Will: Whew! You have the spelling-book right in front 
of your face. 

Lyman [ruefully] : We haven’t! 

Joe: Dick’s the most popular boy at school!—Rena says so. 

Lucy [ entering ] : I ’m after another word— 

Ruth [leaving dictionary] : Here, Lucy. Just in time. 

Fred [in disgust] : Talk about girls’ rights! 

Paul: They seem to have all the rights—to words. 

Lyman : They are said to be very fond of the last word. 

Paul: Wonder if they ever get to it. 

Ruth [looking over her paper] : Each word has so many 
shades of meaning. It’s just wonderful. Can we ever 
learn the right one? 

Lyman: Ought to—if we could just keep glued to the dic¬ 
tionary long enough! 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


38 


Will : Stick to Dick! He’s the wise boy! 

Paul: The trouble is: how’s a fellow to get to him? 

Joe: ‘‘If at first you don't succeed”— 

Lucy [turning to face group, with finger in dictionary to keep 
place] : Yet think, boys, of the real importance of 
words. Words make literature. [Turns hack.] 

Fred: But deeds make history. 

Ruth: Ugh! I never did like history. Literature is my 
best— 

Joe: Yes, yes! but somehow, the more I think of it, the bet¬ 
ter I like the idea of this subject for debate. 

Paul: Yes, it sounds good. I could talk an hour right this 
minute— 

Will : An hour in a minute! That’s going some. 

Paul: Well, I believe I could manage it just the same, if I 
could just get a chance at Dick for a bit! 

Lucy [without turning] : In just a minute, little boy. 
Paul: Humph! It’s been “in just a minute, little boy,” 
for the last hour and a half! 

[Lucy turns from dictionary, and hoys all make a hig 
start for it, hut Ruth slips in ahead.] 

Ruth: Oh, dear! I forgot to look up— Oh, so sorry to 
keep you waiting, boys, but— 

[Boys retreat, with sigh, in unison. Make this advance 
and retreat in military fashion, every step in unison.] 
Lucy [walking to front, Ruth at dictionary] : In this case, 
boys, we ’ll all admit that ‘ ‘ actions speak louder than 
words.” 

Ruth : Ready, girls! Let’s go to the classroom and write! 

[Girls leave, howing low to Boys.] 

Joe: Can it be true? 

Lyman: Our chance at last! 

[All rush to dictionary, and carry it off in triumph.] 
Boys [all] : Good old Dick! 

curtain 


ISABEL’S POEM 

Characters : Three girls and two boys. 

Isabel enters, alone, vnth manuscript and pencil. 

Isabel: If I were only a poet, a real, true poet like Jean 
Ingelow, Adelaide Proctor, Felicia Hemans, Alice Cary, 
and so many others have been when they were no older 
than I, what a lovely poem I would write about our dear 
Miss Graham. She is such a splendid teacher, I think, 
and yet I sometimes mistrust that I do not really appre¬ 
ciate the truly wonderful woman that she is. None of 
us students do; but, at any rate, she is so lovely and 
lovable, and so altogether charming, that such a prosaic 
mortal as I have been chasing rhymes all day in the hope 
of producing something worthy of her. [Sits.] But this 
is all I’ve been able to get—six tame little lines'! [Reads 
slowly.] 

“Like roses in the early spring, 

Like silvery dawn at sea, 

Like notes that woodland songsters sing, 

My teacher proves to me 
What a vivid, fragrant, vital thing 
One fervent soul can be/* 

Why, truly, when I read it over again, that isn’t half bad. 
I must go on and finish it. I wonder if my friends and 
I have not been mistaken in our estimation of my talents, 
and if I am not really very much of a poet after all! 

Winnie and Verna enter. 

Winnie: What are you doing here all by yourself, Isabel? 

Isabel [ embarrassed ] : I was—writing. 

Verna: W 7 riting? 


34 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


35 


Winnie: But what? 

Verna [looking over Isabel's shoulder] : Let me see. [Isa¬ 
bel covers paper with hands. Verna looks at Winnie 
in astonishment.] What can it be? 

Winnie: A letter, maybe? [Isabel shakes head.] Her will, 
perhaps! [Isabel shakes head.] 

Verna: A check for a hundred dollars, payable to me— 
Miss Verna Milton—for a birthday present? Was that 
it, Belle? [Isabel and Winnie laugh, hut Isabel shakes 
head.] Then why do you make such a secret of it? Surely 
nothing less than that could be worth concealing from 
your true and loyal schoolmates, whom you love so very, 
very dearly. 

Winnje : What's the reason you can’t tell us, girlie? Was 
it some old examination paper, or some class exercise 
that you'd rather not show us ? 

Isabel : Not exactly that, girls; and it is n’t really any secret, 
either, only—only— 

Girls [together] : What? 

Isabel : Only I'm afraid you ’ll laugh at me. 

Girls: Laugh? [Isabel nods.] 

Winnie [to Verna] : We wouldn’t, would we? 

Verna [to Winnie] : We couldn’t, could we? 

Isabel : Well, then, girls, if you must know, I ’ll tell you. 

Verna: Well, then, Isabel, we must know! Do tell us. 

Isabel: I was only thinking about Miss Graham, and— 
and— W ell, I tried to write a little, poem about her. 

Verna: A poem? Oh, wasn’t that fine! Do let us see it! 
[Beaches for it.] 

Winnie : Great! You must read it to us. 

Isabel [rising and holding paper behind back] : You are 
certain sure you won’t laugh? 

Winnie*. Surest of sure! 

Verna: Of course we won’t! You know I love poetry. 

Winnie : So do I! And I love Miss Graham, too! 


36 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Isabel: But this isn’t real, true poetry, you know, girls— 
it’s just my poor, feeble attempt to express in weak 
little rhymes some of the big stirring thoughts that our 
lovely teacher always seems to wake up inside of me— 
and—and—it is so pitifully short of all that I would like 
to make it that that is the reason why I was afraid to 
let you see it, for fear it would appear as ridiculous to 
you as it probably would to so many people. But—well— 
here it is! [Holds paper out to them.] 

Verna : Read it to us, Isabel. We ’ll get lots more good 
from it that way. 

Winnie: Yes, Isabel, please do. 

Isabel: Well, if you both really wish me to—I had just 
got started with it, you know, and it’s only six lines— 

Winnie : Wait a minute till we get comfortably seated. [They 
sit, Isabel stands. Frank and George enter just be¬ 
fore she reads. They stand behind her, and she does not 
see them.] 

Verna: Ready now. Go on. 

Isabel: All right. Perhaps, if I can get the right thoughts 
together, I may later— Well, I ’ll stop talking and read. 
[Reads poem as before .] 

Winnie: Oh, isn’t it pretty! 

Frank [coming forward, mischievously] : You’re right, it 
is; but it’s old, Isabel—awfully old. I’ve read every 
single word of it before. 

Isabel [turning on him] : You have not! 

Frank : Well, I certainly have. I’ve seen every single word 
of it in print time and time and again. In fact, I’m 
sure we have a book at home that has every word of it in. 

Isabel [half crying] : I don’t care, Frank Mann, you have 
not! I made up every word of it myself. 

Frank : Now, see here, Belle, don’t you try to make us be¬ 
lieve that. You just wait a minute and I ’ll prove to you 
that I’ve read every single word from my own book. 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


37 


I know there’s a copy here in the library. Come on, 
George. [Exeunt Frank and George.] 

Winnie: Can it be possible? 

Verna : Of course it can’t! Surely, Winnie, you will not 
pay any attention to what Frank Mann says about a girl 
we’ve known as long and well as Isabel! 

Isabel: Thank you, Verna. Thank you. I didn’t copy a 
bit of it—honestly I didn’t. 

Winnie [soothingly] : 01 course you didn’t, Belle. We both 

believe in you. 

Isabel : I worked awfully hard on it, too. I’ve been chasing 
rhymes all day—because I would n’t borrow a single one. 
I didn’t know it was such hard work to be a poet. 

Frank and George re-enter, carrying large dictionary. 

Frank : Here, Miss Isabel, it’s just as I said. You ’ll find 
every single word of that immortal poem in this book. 
[Laughter.] Would you like me to show each one to you, 
or— [Isabel begins to chase him, and he runs, setting 
book on desk.] Help. George, help! 

[All leave stage, laughing.] 


THE BAIRNIES’ SATURDAY NIGHT* 


Characters : 

Jean, the elder sister, aged fifteen or sixteen. 

Jock, the brother, aged from ten to twelve. 

Nanny, the younger sister, aged from eight to ten. 

All dress in Scotch costume, Jock’s (( breeks” badly torn. 
Jock enters left, alone. 

Jock: Naebody hame? Aweel, I canna say as I’m ower 
sair aboot that. Hither would be in a bad wy at a sight 
o ’ the tatters o ’ these auld claes! It’s nae hard to see 
that she never waur a laddie. Gin Jean comes hame, I ’ll 
jeest hae her—nae, that I won’t, neither, fo’ Jean aye 
gabs to mither a’ she kens aboot me and Nanny, the wee 
lassie! 

Nanny [enters right] : Hoots, Jock! Hame? 

Jock [backing away from her, so she cannot see rags] : I 
cudna say for sartin. I winna be sayin’ as I am; an’ 
I winna be sayin’ as I am not. 

Nanny: What fashes ye? [Looks him over suspiciously.] 
I winna doot but ye ’ve been aboot some o’ yer mischief, 
Jock. 

Jock [waving her back]: Dinna fash yersel’! I ken what 
I’m aboot! [Looks around cautiously.] Is Jean— 
[Looks at Nanny inquiringly.] 

Nanny: I hae na’ set e’en on her the nicht. Turn yersel’ 
’round, Jock! I warrant ye ’ve— 


*A study in the Scotch dialect, for the use of schools studying 
Burns, Scott, Barrie, Maclaren, and others. (Pronunciation of words 
and Glossary will be found at the back of The Cotter’s Saturday 
Night and Other Poems, which may be obtained from the publishers 
of this book for 6 cents.)' 


38 



FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


39 


Jock : Ay, an’ I warrant ye’d better haud yer tongue! Ye ’r 
ower glib. 

Nanny [looking around cautiously] : But, Jock, I’m sair 
fleid— 

Jock; Fleid? Ye? I dinna ken what ye— 

Nanny [ coaxingly, to enlist his sympathy] : I’m jeest a wee 
bit lassie, Jock! 

Jock [patting her shoulder patronizingly] : Ye are, Nanny, 
ye are! 

Nanny [resenting the patronage ]: Maybe not sae verra 
wee — [Stands straight.] 

Jock [sizing her up] : Ower wee, Nanny—ower wee! [Sus¬ 
piciously.] What hae ye been doing, Nanny? 

Nanny [dropping head guiltily] : Naething! 

Jock [insisting, sharply, lifting her chin with finger] : 
Naething ? 

Nanny [reluctantly] : Weel, I wadna licht to hae Jean ken 
what I speired to Rab Baxter aboot her. 

Jock [shaking finger at her] : 0 Nanny! Nanny! 

Nanny [same action] : 0 Jock! Jock! 

Jock [affecting innocence] : Weel— 

Nanny [triumphantly] : What’s gang wrang wi’ yer breeks? 

Jock [backing away from her defiantly] : Naething! 

Nanny [holding up finger] : Naething? 

Jock [guiltily] : Weel, I wadna licht to hae Jean ken how I 
blacked the twa e’en o’ that Davy McDonald the nicht! 

Nanny [holding up finger] : 0 Jock! Jock! 

Jock [same action .]: 0 Nanny! Nanny! 

Nanny*. But what did ye fecht him fo’? 

Jock: He flouted me! 

Nanny : Hoo ? 

Jock : He lees. 

Nanny [shocked] : Lees? 

Jock [emphatically ]: Ay, lees! 

Nanny: What aboot, Jock? 


40 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Jock [looks all around cautiously] : He said— [comes closer 
to Nanny, and whispers ]—noo, ye winna gae an’ blab it 
a’, wi’ ye, Nanny? [She shakes head emphatically.] 
Sure, now? I dinna ken if sic a wee bit lassie as ye can 
haud her tongue or na— [Nanny is indignant] —but it’s 
jeest as true as I’m telling ye, Nanny, that limmer dared 
to tell me right to my heid, ye ken— [Nanny nods with 
interest] —that Scotland wasna in the ’Nited States at a’. 

Nanny [astounded] : 0 Jock! 

Jock [imitating her] : 0 Nanny! 

Nanny: But, Jock! 

Jock: Weel, Nanny! 

Nanny: Gin they gaun and moved it oot — 

Jock: Losh, Nanny, what a fulish bairn ye be! Weel, he 
said, as I telled ye, right to my heid, and syne, I jeest 
sailed right into him, an’ proved my p’int wi’ my fists. 
He kens whaur Scotland is noo, a’ straucht eneucli! 
[They laugh.] But, ye ken, my auld breeks—[si^As] — 
if ye wasna sic a wee bit bairn, Nanny, an’ mair handy 
like wi’ a leddy’s needle, it’s a bonny clout ye could 
sew on these claes, and naebody be ony the wiser! But, 
as it is, I feel like a puir gaen-aboot laddie wi’ neyther 
faither nor mither o’ my ain. 

Nanny: Puir Jock! [Examines holes.] It’s verra likely as 
Jean could mend ye oop, noo, afore mither kens a word 
aboot it. 

Jock: I’m na sayin’ as I’m wantin’ to hae Jean ken aboot 
the fechting. 

Nanny: And I’m na sayin* as I’m wantin’ to hae her ken 
aboot Rab Baxter. 

Jock : She’s daft aboot Rab. 

Nanny [reprovingly] : 0 Jock! 

Jock [imitating] : 0 Nanny! 

Nanny [comes closer, looking around slyly] : Say, Jock! 

Jock: Weel, Nanny! 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


41 


Nanny : I winna tell her a word aboot ye, gin ye winna tell 
her aboot me! 

Jock : There’s a bonnie lassie! I dinna ken nae ither lassie 
like my Nannie 0, my Nannie 0. [Clasps her md they 
dance gayly around the room.] 

Nanny: Say, Jock! 

Jock: Weel, Nanny! 

Nanny : I Ve got a wee bit needle—see ? It’s got a bit 
o ’ white thread in it, but that differs na sae muckle. Gin 
ye tak aff yer breeks, I dinna ken but I can pu’ the holes 
thegither a wee bit. 

Jock: O Nanny, ye are the bonniest wee lassie! [Begins 
to unfasten them as Jean appears at door.] Hist! not 
a word to Jean, Nanny! [Nanny shakes head.] 

Jean: Weel, weel, the bonnie bairns! 

Nanny ^ er ’ unbracing her fondly]: 0 Jean! 

Jock: It’s sae lang syne ye came hame, Jean. Will ye bide 
a wee the nicht? 

Nanny [ half-crying , wiping eyes slyly] : Aye—lang syne, 
Jean! 

Jean [slyly wipes her own eyes] : Havers, lassie! I ’m 
ashamed o’ ye for a fulish bairn! I’m aye at hame, come 
a Saturday nicht, ye ken!—to gae wi’ ye a’ to the auld 
kirk, come ilka Sunday. Noo, get to wark, an’ tell me 
a’ aboot the week, and dinna stand there greeting and 
wagging yer tongues! 

Jock [ reproachfully ]: O Jean! 

Nanny [same]: O Jean! 

Jean [surprised] : Weel! Weel! An’ noo, bairnies, wha’s 
gang agley? 

Jock [ hanging head]: Naething! 

Jean [looks at him sharply, then tarns to Nanny] : Nae¬ 
thing ? 

Nanny [hanging head guiltily] : Naething! 


42 DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Jean [looks at her sharply, and turns hack to Jock] : Nae- 
thing ? 

Jock : Weel, ye ken, Jean—Nanny, here! She’s jeest a wee 
bit lassie, and she— 

Nanny [has kept pulling at him all the time , now gets in 
front of him]: Ye ken, Jean—Jock! He’s sic a braw, 
donsie laddie, and he— 

Jock [has been pulling at her, now steps in front] : Dinna 
ye heed to her, Jean! It was a’ Nanny— 

Nanny [pidling him hack as before] : Jean, Jean, it was a’ 
Jock! He— 

Jean [dropping into chair]: Onybody can see wi’ ainly half 
an e’e that ye’r baith clean daft! In the auld days, 
when I waur a wean, ilka bairn waur made to behave 
himsel ’ [shaking finger at Jock] and herseP [shaking 
finger at Nanny] an’ if ye jeest had mair manners aboot 
ye to ain anither, ye wadna be feehting sae muckle— 

Nanny } £ l°°^ n 9 eac h other in amazement]: Feehting! 


Jock: Who told ye, Jean? [Turns and shakes fist at Nanny 
angrily.] Nanny? 

Nanny [begins to cry] : I didna— 

Jean [rising] : Are ye baith off yer heids a’ thegither? 

Jock: Dagont! She maun be mighty quick in the uptake— 

Jean [suddenly understanding] : Jock, gin ye hae been 
feehting again, I dinna ken what faither will do to ye! 
[Jock hangs head, Nanny nudges him. No answer. 
Nanny nudges him again. No answer.] Jock, hae ye 
been feehting? [After pause , Jock shakes head without 
raising it. ] 

Nanny [accusingly] : 0 Jock! Jock! 

Jock [looking up, imitating her] : 0 Nanny! Nanny ! 

Jean [severely]; Jock! 

Jock [reluctantly ]: Weel, I winna say as I hae not hae jeest 
a wee bit o’ a scrimmage! 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


43 


Nanny : 0 Jock! 

Jock : 0 Nanny! 

Jean: Tell me a’ aboot it, Jock! [He hangs head again.] 
Jock! [He still hangs head, Nanny pulling at him.] 
Somethin’ must be gang wrang wi’ the laddie’s lugs! 
[Shouts in his ear.] Jock! 

Jock [jumping hack, rubbing ears]: Havers, Jean! D’ye 
think ye’r a whustle wi’ yer hoot-toot-toot? 

Nanny [laughing] : Wasna it bonny to see the lad loup, 
Jean? 0 Jock! 

Jock [mockingly] : 0 Nanny! 

Jean [sits, speaks sternly]: Noo, tell me, Jock! 

Jock [walks away from her]: Better bide a wee, Jean. 
Jean: I hae bided to lang a’ready. Hoo did ye dare to 
brawl when ye ken hoo baith faither and mither—to say 
naething o’ my ainsel’—and yer ainsel’—and Nanny here 
— [shakes head sadly] —hoo did ye come to fecht, laddie? 
Jock [turning around indifferently] : Eh? 

Jean : What I’m speiring at ye is, hoo did ye come to fecht ? 
Jock : Ah, the fecht—weel—a—a—the fecht— a —I maist for¬ 
get hoo I come to! 

Nanny: 0 Jock! [Goes and stands behind Jean’s chair.] 
Jock : O Nanny! 

Jean [patiently] : D’ye na mind wha’ ’t/ waur a’ aboot, 
Jock? 

Jock: Weel, I wadna jeest like to say as hoo I didna mind 

it, Jean, but— 

Jean : D ’ye mind the ither laddie, then ? 

Jock : Oh—ay—I mind the ither laddie weel eneuch—ay, 

mind the laddie! 

Jean: Then who— 

Jock [croons, chants, or hmns, mischievously] : 

<'But what’s his name, or whaur’s his hame 
I dinna care to tell I ’ ’ 

Jean: Weel, d ’ye mind the reason o’ the fecht? 


44 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Jock : Bide a meenit—bide a meenit— I ’m thinking! Ay, I 
mind the reason noo—mind it fine! 

Jean: Wha’ d ’ye mind ’t waur a’ aboot, then? 

Jock: Weel, ye ken, Jean—ye ken—the reason was, Jean,— 
the ither laddie an’ me, we jeest didna, as ye might say, 
agree like. He thocht ane thing aboot something; I 
thocht anither. And that was the reason, Jean. Dinna 
it wanr a gnid reason—a verra guid reason! 

Jean [impatiently] : Ilka fule in the warld kens that is the 
ane and ainly reason for ilka auld brawl. What was the 
gist o’ it like?—the thing ye thocht, and the thing he 
thocht, and wha’ ye thocht and he thocht aboot it? 

Jock: Oh, that’s wha’ ye’ve been speiring aboot a’ the 
time, is it?' What for did ye na speak plain afore? Weel, 
it waur a guid reason—a verra guid reason! 

Nanny : 0 Jock! 

Jock: 0 Nanny! 

Jean : Nanny, do ye be still and leave Jock gie me his reason 
afore it is fu’ time for ye bairnies to cuddle doon. 

Nanny [reproachfully] : O Jean! 

Jock [the same] : 0 Jean! 

Jean: Come, Jock, I dinna want to hae to punish ye when 
I’m gang from hame sae muckle, but— 

Nanny [steps front of Jean eagerly] : 0 Jock, hurry! 

Jock: 0 Nanny, worry! 

Jean: Jock! Gin ye hae sae muckle to tell, I wadna think 
ye wad be waggin’ yer tongue sae lang aboot naething! 
Ye may make licht o’ this, but it’s far frae being sic 
a sonsie matter to me that my ainly brither should be 
gang oot fechting like a mad dog in the streets, wi’ nae 
regard for his ain folk, that are bringin’ o’ him oop to 
be a mon! I didna think ye had sae muckle o’ meanness 
in ye, ye waukrife rogue! 

Jock [has listened with head down, speaks protestingly] : O 
Jean! 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


45 


Nanny [sympathetically] : 0 Jean! 

Jean [to Nanny] : Weel, then, lassie, why dinna the lad 
speak oop when I’m speiring him the reason o’ his fecht 
the day? I like nae sic behavin’! 

Nanny : But, Jean! 

Jean: Weel, Nanny. 

Nanny [coaxingly] : Gin sae be Jock tells ye a’ aboot it— 

Jock [angrily] : A’ aboot Nanny, what she’s lang syne 
blabbin’ to— 

Nanny [alarmed]: 0 Jock! 

Jock [mocking] : 0 Nanny! 

Jean [puzzled, looks at Nanny sternly] : What Nanny’s 
been blabbin’ to— 

Nanny [drops head] : Naebody ! 

Jock [accusingly] : 0 Nanny! 

Nanny [pleadingly] : O Jock! 

Jean [impatiently] : And gin ye’r expectin’ me to ken what 
ye ’r speiring at when ye dinna say ane word a Christian 
lassie can put wi ’ anither to make four, ye baith hae e ’en 
less sense in yer fule heids than I thocht ye had! 

Nanny [pleadingly] : O Jean! 

Jock [same] : 0 Jean! 

Nanny [turns to Jock when Jean does not look up, half 
crying] : O Jock! 

Jock [plainly troubled] : O Nanny! 

Jean [sternly, to Jock] : What did Nanny tell, and wha 
did she tell it a’ to? 

Jock [sorry he spoke] : I wadna say as how the lassie told 
anything, but I canna deny as it waur jeest Rab Baxter 
as she waur a-tellin’ it a’ to. 

Jean [springs up, looking sternly at Nanny, Nanny backing 
away, Jean following] : Rab Baxter! 

Nanny [alarmed] : 0 Jock! 

Jock [sympathetically] : 0 Nanny! 

Jean: An’ ye maun jeest “0 Jock” an’ “0 Nanny!” till 


46 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


ye waur black in the verra face o’ ye baith, ye blunder¬ 
ing, blabbing limmers! What did ye tell Rab Baxter 
aboot me, Nanny? [Shakes her.] Tell me, this meenit, 
afore I shake the bones o ’ ye into a pudding string! 

Nanny [in alarm, teeth chattering ] : O Jock ! 

Jock [sympathetically] : 0 Nanny! 

Jean: Ye drivelling brat! Ye ken far ower muckle! Oot 
wi ’ it! 

Jock [trying to come to rescue] : She said — she said 
[scratches head] wha’ did ye say to him, Nanny? 

Jean [shaking her]: Weel, Nanny! 

Nanny: I didna ken as hoo ye wad be carin’ if I jeest told 
the lad— 

Jean : What ? 

Nanny: That my sister Jean was jeest the bonniest, sonsie 
lass in a ’ the warl’! 

Jean [surprised, hugs Nanny with delight, pulling her to 
lap] : O Nanny! my bonnie wee sister! 

Jock [ accusingly, through jealousy] : 0 Nanny! 

Nanny [pleading for mercy] : 0 Jock! 

Jean [slightly suspicious] : An’ what mair did ye tell the 
laddie, Nanny? 

Jock [laughs tauntingly] : Naething! 

Jean [insisting] : Naething? 

Nanny [reluctantly] : Jeest ainly that ye liked.him right 
weel, an’— 

Jean : Nanny! Nanny ! 

Nanny [innocently] : Dinna ye like the puir laddie, Jean? 

Jean: I wadna be sayin’ as hoo I didna like the lad, exactly 
—a wee bit—but I wadna tell him sae muckle. 0 Nanny! 
Nanny! wha’ hae ye done? [Weeps.] 

Nanny [alarmed, jumps from Jean’s lap] : 0 Jock! 

Jock [accusingly] : 0 Nanny! 

Nanny [pats Jean on hack, rubs head]: Puir Jean! Puir 
Jean! Dinna greet! 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


47 


Jean [jumping up] : Dinna ye “puir Jean’’ me! I’m sair 
angry wi ’ the twa o ’ ye! 

Nanny [runs to Jock] : 0 Jock! 

Jock [embracing her] : 0 Nanny! 

Jean [as if to herself] : Maybe I’m ower hard on the bairns. 
I’m sae little o ’ a Scotch lassie noo that I’m nae muckle 
better ’n a Yankee. Ah, weel I maun dree my weird—ay, 
that I maun! 

Jock [leads Nanny to Jean] : She’s jeest a wee bit lassie. 
She might turn silly gin ye scold her, Jean, an’ syne 
mither— 

^Jean [site, taking Nanny on lap] : There! There! Maybe 
ye ’r gey ill for what ye’ve done. 

Nanny [eagerly] : Ay, ay, Jean! 

Jean : Dinna be so woeful aboot it, for that’s na nane like 
oor wee Nanny. Gie me a’ ye’r daft capers o’ singing an’ 
lauching noo ! [Tickles her.] 

Nanny [laughing] : Ye’r kittling, Jean. 

Jean: That’s right. Aweel, Jock! I’m ready to hear who 
ye waur fechting wi ’, the day, and what ye waur fechting 
aboot! I ’ll do fair weel gin I keep my bit o’ temper wi’ 
ye, lad; but gang alang wi’ yer tale. 

Jock [sitting] : Weel, gin ye will hae it, I waur eighty mile 
frae the corner here— 

Nanny [jumps down, shakes finger at him] : O Jock! 

Jock [rises, Nanny gets behind him] : Though there be some 
as says as hoo it be not mair than sixty mile— 

Nanny [pidls on his coat] : 0 Jock! 

Jock [after turning round and shaking fist at Nanny] : And 
as I walked it in fair time, at a slow gait, I’d be sair put 
to it to think it waur mair than thirty mile— 

Nanny: 0 Jock! 

Jock [turning angrily on her] : Noo, ye jeest look a-here, 
Nanny, I ’ll no take anither inch frae that road, e’en gin 
ye should pull every last thread oot o ’ the auld breeks! 


48 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


[Backs up to Jean.] Jeest see what Nanny hae doon. 
Jean. 

Nanny [protesting] : 0 Jock! 

Jock [insisting] : 0 Nanny! 

Jean [reproachfully] : 0 Nannj^ ! 

Nanny [protesting] : 0 Jean! 

Jean [sits again] : 0 Jock! Gin mither sets her e’en on the 

hole in these breeks—but gang alang wi ’ yer tale! It’s 
fair lang an ’ far-soundin ’ for a laddie o’ yer years. 

Jock: Oh, noo, is it that, Miss Jean? 

Jean: Ay, an’ it is, Jock. But gae on noo, speak the truth, 
an ’ gie me a ’ ye ken aboot the fecht. Syne, I ’ll gar the 
auld breeks look amaist as weel’s the new—afore mither 
an’ faither come hame. 

Jock [delighted] : O Jean! 

Nanny [runs to her f climbing on lap and hugging her] : O 
Jean! 

Jock [si#s] : Weel, Jean, d ’ye ken Water Street? 

Jean : My certie, of course I do. 

Jock: Weel, ye gang alang it, and turn into the square, 
and ye cross the street, and syne go past the auld kirk— 

Jean: Ay, ay, I ken. 

Jock: Weel, gin ye gang across the square there, ye turn 
to the right and oop High Street, till ye come to a pump. 

Jean: Ay, Jock. I ken the auld pump weel. 

Jock [rises] : Weel, then, Jean, ye maun jeest gang an’ pump 
it, for ye ’ll nae pump me. 

Nanny [jumps down, runs to him] : 0 Jock! 

Jock [defiantly] : 0 Nanny! 

Jean [goes to him] : Ye limmer! Gin ye dinna— 

Jock: It waur Nanny that— 

Nanny [pulling him back] : 0 Jock! 

Jock : Dagqnt! Who was it that told— 

Nanny [pulling him back] : Who was it that jeest — 

Jock [same action] : Who told— 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


49 


Nanny [same] : Who gie the black e’en to— 

Jock [same]: Who said— 

Nanny [same]: Who— 

Jock [same] : Who— 

Jean [stepping between them]: Dinna fecht wi’ ane anither, 
bairns. It’s a sair canny laddie ye be, Jock! 

Jock [pleased with the flattery] : Weel, Jean, I dinna say 
it’s no! 

Jean: An’ ye waur fechting the day? 

Jock: I micht hae been. 

Jean [puts her hand an his shoulder] : But waur ye ? 

Jock: I wadna like to say as hoo I waur; an’ I dinna jeest 
like to say as hoo I waur no. 

Jean: But why hot? 

Jock [mischievously] : Because I ’m sic a ‘ 4 sair canny lad¬ 
die!” 

Jean [embracing him] : O Jock! Jock! Ye ’r a right braw 
sonsie laddie, wi’ a’ yer rags an’ rantings. 

Nanny [wriggling in between them, jealously] : Me, too, 
Jean! 

Jean [after embracing her] : But I maunna stand here crack¬ 
ing clavers wi’ ye bairns ower lang, or I ’ll hae nae time 
to get the bit sup for the faither and mither, nor my 
frock for the morrow’s kirk. It’s speiring ower muckle 
o ’ a lassie to ask her to gang to the kirk in her ilka day 
claes—especially when there ’s bonny Rab Baxter as 
thinks she’s maist as bonny a lassie as he kens in a’ the 
town. [Hums “Coming Through the Eye.”] This was 
a shilling the yard, an’ no less, when I bocht it, an’ 
that’s maist three year come Halloween, an’ it’s been 
turned six times syne. It’s a guid piece o’ clout yet, 
but what does the stuff matter to a lassie when the cut 
isna fashy?—an’ it takes muckle o’ siller to keep a puir 
body oop with the quality folk. So come, bairnies, and 
I ’ll jeest sew oop the rent in the auld breeks, and then— 


50 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


think, gin mither comes hame an’ speirs aboot her lassie 
and laddie, I dinna ken wha’ I can say! I dinna— 

Jock : Say: 

“The bairnies, mither, are in their cots, 

And lang syne cuddled doon! ’ 1 

Nanny [snuggling against her skirt ] : Tell us a tale, Jean— 
We ’re ower guid bairns, ye ken. 

Jean [as she throws arm around each and leads them off 
stage] : Weel, I’m na a-sayin’ as hoo I winna! 


curtain 


REHEARSING THE PROGRAM 

Characters : Three girls and one boy. 

Scene*. A schoolroom. 

Edna enters alone. 

Edna: I wonder where Miss Monroe is. I thought we were 
to rehearse our program this morning. 

Grace enters. 

Grace: Where’s Miss Monroe? 

Edna : I just came. I have n’t seen her. 

Grace: Weren’t we to rehearse this morning? 

Edna : I thought so. 

Grace: I have to take a music lesson at ten. What shall I 
do if she doesn’t hurry? Mamma doesn’t like me to 
have to do school work on Saturday, anyway. Say, Edna, 
I wonder if you could n’t hear me recite my part. 

Edna : Why, of course, I could hear you. I’m not a bit 
deaf. But I would n’t know a thing about how to direct 
you, or correct you— 

Grace [with superior air ] : Oh, I won’t need any direction 
or correction. I have been all ready for the entertain¬ 
ment for two weeks. 

Edna: All right, then. 

Grace: Here’s my copy. [Hands it.] I ’ll stand over here. 
[Takes place.] The subject is “Delsarte.” [Recites] : 

You see I’m learning lots of Delsarte now; 

My cousin Kate is here, and shows me how; 

And oh! I know an awful lot, I do; 

If you would like, I ’ll pose some here for you. 


51 


52 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


[Illustrates each sentence.] 

I suppose you can’t do like a butterfly; 

You have to stretch your arms out, same as I; 
Now, let the wrists lead up, and up, and then 
Be sure you let the wrists lead down again. 


And when you pout, you do like this, you see; 

And when you laugh, you’d better do like me; 

And when you cry, this is the way to do; 

And when you ’re downright mad —I ’ll show you, too! 

To reach, you stand on tiptoe, reaching high; 

To call, you make a trumpet, same as I; 

To listen, you must stand like this, you know; 

To pray, you kneel, and clasp your hands, just so. 

[Pause before rising.] 
This is n’t half I’ve got to learn of it, 

And I don’t like it all a little bit; 

But mamma says it really is my place 
To try to learn to move with ease and grace. 

So, every day, they call me in from play, 

And make me practice, practice, as they say; 

Of course, it’s very nice—it must be so! 

Nice things are never pleasant things, you know. 

If Mr. Delsarte had to go all through 
These mad contortions, like we have to do, 

I’m very sure that he’d be sorry, then, 

And not invent such crazy things again. 

Some day, I ’ll know it all—of course I will; 

But there is lots of time a-coming still; 

I’m sure I ought to go and practice now, 

So I will leave you with my Delsarte bow. 


Edna : I think you do it beautifully, Grace. 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


53 


Grace: So do I. 

Joe enters. 

Joe: Where’s teacher? 

Grace: Nobody knows. Well, I must go. Thank you, very 
much, Edna, for hearing me practice. [Exits.] 

Edna : That’s all right, Grace. 

Joe : Did you hear her recite, Edna ? 

Edna: Yes. She was in such a hurry— 

Joe: So am I. Mother’s sick, and I have to run on a very 
important errand. Could n’t you hear me, too. ? I’ve 
got the piece here. 

Edna: Why, yes. But I’m not able to tell you how to— 
Joe : Oh, goodness! I know how. I ’ve been coached into a 
regular livery horse. 

Edna : All right, then. Go ahead. What’s the subject ? 
Joe [taking place] : “A Little Mimic.” [Recites:] 

They say I am a mimic; 

I don’t know what they mean; 

Of course, I’ve learned the language 
Of some things I have seen; 

But—“mimic!” Say, what would you do9 
Would you “Ha, ha, ha!” or “Boo, hoo, hoo!” 

I wake up in the morning 
To hear the wee birds sing^ 

But close beneath my window 
I hear a different thing— 

“ I’m Cock-a-doodle-doo! 

Now who in the world are you?” 

I jump up and, while bathing, 

I listen all the time; 

I’m sure to hear some fellow 
Break forth in his own rhyme; 

I hear my good friend calling now, 

And here’s his message—‘ ‘ Bow, wow, wow! ’ ’ 


54 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


I run downstairs for breakfast 
Where kitty waits for me; 

Her purr-r-r-r-r is welcome 
Wherever I may be; . 

But when she’s hungry, her ‘ ‘ Me-ow! ’ ’ 

Makes me feel hungry, too, somehow! 

Away out in the barnyard, 

Is our old bossy, Bess; 

She knows me, for I feed her, 

And she likes me, too, I guess; 

I call to her “Co’ Boss,” and you 

Should hear her answer, i ‘ Moo-oo-oo!’ ’ 

There ’s sheep out in the pasture; 

They know me not so well; 

They like me when I feed them, 

As anyone could tell, 

But every time I laugh, “Ha, ha!” 

They mock me with their “Baa-aa-aa!” 

And homeward from the pasture 
There’s one I really fear; 

I’m careful not to touch him 
Whenever he comes near; 

No matter what a fellow does, 

He sings a warning,—“Buzz! Buzz! Buzz 

Of course, there’s lots of others 
That I could tell about; 

But if I keep on going _ 

I ’ll shut somebody out; 

And so I ’ll simply run away 

And tell the rest some other day. 

Edna : Joe, that’s fine. 

Joe: Yes, I like it. 

Edna : You have it so nicely prepared, too. 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


55 


Joe : Oh, do you honestly think so ? I ’ve tried so hard to 
get it right. Well, I must hurry off. You 11 explain to 
Miss Monroe, won’t you? 

Edna : Certainly. 

Joe : Thank you, for everything. 

Maud enters, Joe greets her as he passes out. 

Hello, Maud. Good-bye, girls. [Exits.] 

Maud [staring after him] : Why, how funny! 

Edna : He was just going out as you came in. 

Maud : Oh! That’s it! Where’s Miss Monroe ? 

Edna: She hasn’t come. 

Maud: Oh, dear! When I wanted to practice my piece in 
a double jerk, so I could go to the ball-game with Uncle 
Jerry! 

Edna*. I have been hearing a couple of the others rehearse, 
if you’d like— 

Maud: Oh, will you? 

Edna : Gladly. 

Maud: You dear thing! Here’s the paper. It’s “How 
Auntie Danced.” [Recites.] 

My auntie’s just the sweetest girl 
That I did ever see; 

She ’s mamma’s sister, and that’s why 
She’s aunt to Bob and me; 

Last night, they had a party here! 

I just wish you had seen 
How beautiful she looked, all dressed 
Just like a fairy queen! 

And how she danced! She held her dress [Imitates.] 

And stepped so daintily; 

She pointed—so—her pretty to.e, 

So every one could see; 

And then she picked her skirt right up, 

And whirled around and ’round; 


56 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


And then she stopped and bowed so low 
I thought she’d touch the ground! 

Oh, say, ’twas fine! and I just think 
Tom Wheeler thought so, too; 

He watched her all the blessed time 
To see what she would do! 

I just wish I was big like her! 

I know I’d love to dance; 

But mother says I’m growing, 

So perhaps I ’ll get my chance. 

Edna : It ’s beautiful. 

Maud : And it was so nice of you to hear me. You will report 
to Miss Monroe? 

Edna: Of course. 

Maud: Thank you. Good-bye. [Exits.] 

Edna: Good-bye! Well, well! I seem to have everything 
my own way this morning. I wonder if I’d better hear 
myself practice and then go home. 

Joe enters. 

Joe: Say, Edna, I just met Fred and he says that Miss 
Monroe is sick and can’t come this morning. She sent 
word for us to go through with our parts the best we 
could without her. I thought I’d better stop and tell 
you. 

Edna : Thank you. [Exit Joe.] Well, I ’ve had a little 
entertainment of my own, anyway. Shall I practice or 
not? I guess I’d better—not! [Exit Edna.] 


BOYHOOD FRIENDS 

Characters: Three boys. 

Jack : I ’m sorry, boys, if the poor fellow you’ve been talk¬ 
ing about really hasn’t any friends. Why, you know 
what a long way I live from everybody! [Boys nod.] 
But I never get lonesome. 

Henry : Why, Jack, everybody knows you have more friends 
than any other kid in school. 

Jack : Oh, no, no, Henry—not that many! But I Ve always 
tried to make friends with everybody and everything, and 
so I guess I have my share. 

Frank : Every boy in school is your friend, Jack. 

Jack: I hope so, Frank; but I wasn’t thinking of boys 
when I spoke. 

Henry: Then who? 

Jack: Well, Henry, the first thing in the morning, there’s 
a real good friend of mine that comes right under my 
window and calls me to wake up. He says “Cock-a- 
doodle-doo!” 

Frank : Oh, we ’re all acquainted with him. 

Jack: I hope so. He ’s worth knowing. Then I hear another 
friend calling, “Moo! moo! moo!” 

Henry : We’ve met old Bossy, too! 

Jack: And soon, if not sooner, a “bow-wow-wow!” and a 
“me-ow!” tell me it’s time other friends were being 
fed! 

Henry [with slight sarcasm ]: And a “Ugh! ugh! ugh!” 
from the pig-pen, I suppose, reminds you of another dear 
friend. 

Jack: Certainly! As well as a “baa-baa-baa!” from the 
other side of the fence. 


57 




58 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Frank: It’s a “hiss! hiss! hiss!”— [imitate gome] —that 
wakes Henry up! 

Henry : Oh, I’m not such a goose as I look. But I don’t 
have to choose my friends— 

Jack: Never mind, Henry. I’m glad to. I hurry and get 
cleaned up, for I remember one dear little friend waiting 
to call “Sweet! sweet! sweet!” to me, while dear old 
Barney calls from the barn. [Whinny like horse.] A 
good many friends run to meet me, telling me their good 
news in a “ cluck, cluck,. cluck, ” or a “ cut-cut-cut-ca- 
dah-cut!” while I hear a “gobble, gobble, gobble,” close 
behind! 

Henry [with greater sarcasm] : Where’s the one that says 
“He-haw! he-haw! he-haw!” 

Jack: He doesn’t happen to live in our yard, Henry; but, 
if he did, I should certainly try to make friends with 
him. 

Frank: Good for you, Jack! What a happy life you must 
have out on the farm! 

Henry : Humph ! If those are his chosen friends— 

Jack : They are; but the dearest of all is the one who calls, 
“Jack! Jack! Mother wants you!” I am listening for 
the call of another one now—one you all share with me! 

Frank: What does it say? 

Jack: Ding-dong! Ding-dong! [Bell rings off stage.] 
Hear it ? Let’s run! 


BOY HEROES 

Characters : Ned, Harry, Fred, John, and Jim. 

Costumes: Ordinary school attire, with books, bat and 
ball, etc. 

Scene: A street. Ned, Harry, Fred, and Jim discovered in 
group, talking earnestly, with many gestures. 

Ned: I just want to tell you right here, boys, Harry is the 
lad that gets the prize for doing the bravest thing this 
month. There isn’t any question about it, is there, boys? 

Boys [all but Harry shaking heads vigorously and patting 
Harry on back] : No—sir—ee! 

Harry : Oh, don’t josh me, boys, I did n’t do a thing—hon¬ 
est I did n’t—not a single thing that any of you would n’t 
have done as easy as I—or a lot easier. Why, I was swim¬ 
ming right there, and when the little tot fell in, what 
would any decent kid do but grab her and haul her to 
shore? I can’t see any bravery about that. 

Fred: But didn’t she kick and scream and hang on to you 
like the mischief? 

Harry: Oh, yes, but— 

Boys [all, mocking him] : Oh, yes, but— 

Fred : There’s no use trying to get out of it, Harry. You 
are our hero all right. I thought when we were reading 
the stories of all those brave men that I would so like 
to be a hero, too, and that I would do some great and 
daring deed some time. And then, when we talked it over 
with teacher and she offered a prize to the one doing the 
bravest deed each month, why, I just did mean to try 
hard; for if it is really true that we don’t have to wait 
to grow up before doing great things, I wanted to do it, 
right away, soon, you know! But—opportunity did not 
59 


60 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


seem to knock at my door, that’s all. And if it had— 
Well! it might not have found me at home. One never 
can tell! At any rate, I am glad that it did knock at 
Harry’s door— 

Ned : And did find him at home, too—eh ? Hurrah for Harry! 

Boys [all but Harry] : Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah for Harry! 

Harry : I don’t deserve it, boys—really I don’t; but I thank 
you for your kindness. But while you are talking about 
it, Mr. Fred, I would just like to call to your mind some¬ 
thing you may have forgotten— 

Fred: Now don’t go to giving me away, Harry! [Acts 
afraid of what Harry may say. Others laugh teasingly. ] 

Boys [all but Fred] : Tell it, Harry—tell it. 

Fred [starts off left ] : Good-bye, boys. See you later. 

Boys: Head him off, Jim! [All, catching and holding him,] 
No you don’t, Fred. 

Fred [out of breath] : No fair—but fire away, Harry. A real 
sure-enough hero won’t run from danger. [All laugh.] 

Harry: I wasn’t going to say anything, Fred, only just to 
ask if you had forgotten the night the barn burned and 
your pony was so frightened by the smoke, blaze, and 
noise of the fire department that he wouldn’t let any¬ 
body near him. So you yourself went into the very worst 
of it, .to blindfold and lead him out. That was only at 
the beginning of the month, Fred, and I could never 
have done that. It is natural enough for me to swim, 
for Father taught me to swim when I was no larger than 
a frog; but fires make me frantic, and that night I was so 
bumfuzzled I didn’t know a thing. Now, boys, I ask 
you which was the greater hero, Fred or I ? 

Boys : Hurrah for Fred ! Hurrah ! Hurrah! 

Fred : Boys, will you keep still ? I did n’t doa thing! 

Boys [mimicking him]: I didn’t do a thing! 

Fred: Well, I didn’t! Prince was always afraid of stran¬ 
gers—even when there was nothing to scare him to death 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


61 


—do yon think “any decent boy” would let his own 
pony burn to death just because he was afraid to walk 
in and help him out? There was no one else who could 
do it, and wasn’t it up to me? 

Harry: Of course,—but I couldn’t do it! 

Boys : Nor I! 

Jim : Speaking of bravery, though, I know a little something, 
if you ’ll give me leave to tell. 

Boys [eagerly] : Tell it! 

Fred : Sure ! dive in! 

Jim: I saw a boy rush in front of a flying automo-bubble 
just last night to help an old woman out of the way. 
She was lame and slow, and would likely have been 
crushed to death if he had n’t jumped just in time. The 
machine knocked him down, and I ’ll bet he is badly 
bruised to-day to pay for it— 

Ned: Nonsense, Jim—only a scratch or two, and— 

[Has held head down ever since he caught what Jim 
was going to tell.] 

Boys: ‘Was it Ned? 

Jim : Of course it was Ned! Who else ! 

Boys : Bully for Ned! Hurrah! Hurrah for Ned! 

Ned: It seems to me, boys, you are making a' lot of fuss 
about nothing. I couldn’t let the poor old lame woman 
get run over, could I? No manly boy would have stood 
for that. Why, what if it had been your mother— 
or mine? 

Harry : He’s right, boys! But the question is, would the 
rest of us have had the quickness of thought and the 
courage to do it? 

Boys : Not I! 

Ned: Sure you would—every one of you! And it didn’t 
amount to anything, anyway. Now I ’ll tell you what I 
call courage. The other day an electric wire—a real 
live wire, you know—got caught on the pole beside the 


62 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


new building that’s going up on Cherry Street, It had 
slipped from the place the men had placed it, and if it 
had fallen on another liye wire just a little way below 
where it caught, it would have done what they call short- 
circuiting ; and that would have meant sure death to the 
men who were working with it just over the hill, for it 
was one of the power wires. So what does a boy we 
know do but climb away up that pole, higher than the 
top of that building, and hold that w T ire where it had 
caught, with a long stick, till I ran clear over the hill 
and told the men. Goodness only knows how he got 
up there. But he did get there,—and it was the bravest 
thing I ever saw done. Why, I get dizzy just climbing a 
ladder! 

Jim: Oh, pshaw 1 you know my father is a carpenter, and 
I’m used to making high climbs. That was no trick 
at all. 

Boys : Jim ? 

Ned : Sure it was Jim! Gee! it made me dizzy just to see 
him do it. ~ . 

Boys: Hurrah for Jim! Hurrah! Hurrah for Jim! 

Jim : Jt seems that we ’re all heroes—a jolly bunch of candi¬ 
dates for the prize. When we all get to urging our supe¬ 
rior claims, I guess Teacher will find it hard to know who 
deserves the honors—eh? [All laugh.] But where is 
John? He ’ll be late if he doesn’t move himself. 

Harry: There he comes now. Hurry up, John! 

John [entering right with head down] : Hello, fellows! 

Harry: What’s the matter, John? You look glum. Has 
the world used you wrong this early in the morning? 

Jim: Or did you get out of bed the wrong way? 

John: Neither one, I guess, boys; but I don’t feel any too 
happy. You see, this is the end of the month, when 
teacher was to give the prize to the boy who had done 
the bravest act— 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


63 


Boys [nodding] : Yes! 

Jim : That’s what we ’re talking about! 

John : And I—boys, I am a—a coward! 

Boys: A coward? [John nods, and turns away.] 

Ned: I don’t—won’t—believe that could be true of any one 
of our bunch. 

Boys: Nor I! 

John : It ’s very kind of you to say so, boys, but it is only 
too true. I am nothing but a coward. 

Fred: Tell us about it! 

John: I can’t! i 

Jim: Of course you can. Aren’t we your pals? 

Fred : And your best friends ? 

John : Yes, boys, and it is because I want you to be my best 
friends always that I can’t tell you. You ’ll have no 
more use for me if you find out. 

Harry: You don’t put a very big value on our friendship, 
it seems to me, John. 

John: Well, if you put it that way, I ’ll have to tell you. 
On the way to school, remembering that this was the 
day when we were to report all our doings and receive 
the reward for bravery, I was wishing something would 
happen that would give me a chance to prove myself 
brave, you know, so that I’d stand some chance for the 
prize, when I ran on to some big boys from across the 
way, and they wanted me to smoke a cigarette with them, 
and tried their best to force me to put one into my mouth. 
Now you know, boys,—as I have told you before—my 
mother always taught me that it was wrong, and I prom¬ 
ised her several years ago that I would never use tobacco 
in any form. Then the teacher hates it so! And, don’t 
you know, I just couldn’t touch the thing. They said 
I was a coward,—and—well, I guess I must be, for I 
didn’t dare break my word to Mother or displease 
Teacher; but anyway, I can’t help feeling that I’d rather 


64 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


be a coward and lose the prize than be brave as a bear and 
always have to know that I had lied to Mother. 

Boys: So would I! 

John [brightening up] : Honest, boys? 

Jim: Well, I hope so! 

John : But do you mean it ? 

Boys : Sure thing! 

Harry: And don’t you know, boys, I think John has done 
the bravest thing of all, and the prize must be his. 

Boys: Sure! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah for John! 

John: Don’t, boys, I— 

Harry [interrupting] : Anyone can swim who knows how, 
and— 

Ned: Any decent boy would help an old woman across the 
street, and— 

Jim : Any boy whose father is a carpenter can climb, and— 

Fred: It would be a poor stick of a boy who would leave 
his pony to burn when he could lead him out; but when 
it comes to courage—the stuff they call moral courage— 
that makes a boy dare to stand up before three or four 
“toughs” and “bullies” with their taunts, and be true 
enough to himself and his mother and teacher to say 
“No!”—I say John’s got it, and John must have the 
prize. What do you say, boys? 

Boys: John! John’s IT! 

Fred : Come on to school, now, and get what’s coming to 
you. Come, boys, let’s “bear the conquering hero home” 
with all the honors of war. 

[All grab John and place him upon their shoulders.] 

Jim: We ’ll carry him in like they carried the football cap¬ 
tain home Saturday. 

[Just as they exit, carrying John, Ned speaks.] 

Ned: Oh, teacher, here’s your prize boy! 


MURDERING THE LANGUAGE 


Characters : One large girl, five smaller girls, and six boys. 

Scene: A bare room, with benches at sides and dictionary at 
fback. All of the children but one are playing quietly at 
“tag,” “drop the handkerchief,” or any preferred game. 
Miss Thompson enters with Victoria, and they stop play¬ 
ing at once. 

Miss Thompson : Children, here is a little girl who has just 
moved into our district from far-off England. She is 
going to attend our school for a few months. 

All: Cries of “Good! Good!”—'‘Oh joy!”—“Bully for 
her!”—“Hurrah!” etc. 

Miss Thompson : As she has never been in the United States 
before, and so knows nothing of our manners and cus¬ 
toms, she will naturally feel strange for a while; but I 
trust you all to help her feel as much at home as possible. 

Mabel: Sure thing, Miss Thompson. [Exit Miss Thomp¬ 
son.] 

Jennie [to Victoria] : Well, what’s your handle, young 
one ? 

Victoria [puzzled, looking down at clothes] : My handle? 

Why— 

Mabel : She means your name. 

Victoria: Oh! My name is Victoria Alexandra Eugenia 
Elizabeth Barclay. 

All : Whew! 

John: Get next to the dictionary, would you? [Victoria 
immediately goes to dictionary and leans against it.] 

Arthur : Gee! ain’t she a peach ? 

Victoria [quickly] : No, indeed. How can you think so? I 
am just a girl. 


65 


66 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Arthur : If she’d just take off her lid— 

Victoria: Lid? What does the boy mean? I have no lid. 

Hattie: He means the lid of your cocoanut, of course. 

Victoria: But I have no cocoanut, either. Why, I haven’t 
even seen one for ever and ever so long. 

George: If you girls would keep your long noses at home 
[Victoria looks at each girl’s nose in turn, curiously.] 
she’d get it all through her cocoanut— 

Victoria : But I tell you I have no cocoanut— 

Fred: Yes, she would—in the neck! 

Victoria [alarmed, feeling neck] : Would it hurt? 

Mabel : No! no! He just means you would n’t—what George 
said. 

Arthur: Ain’t she the hot one? 

Victoria : No, no, really, I’m not a bit hot. I was thinking 
it was rather too cool here. 

Fred : Gee! She’s sure going some! 

Victoria: Why, no, I ’m not! I haven’t moved since that 
boy told me to come over here. 

Fred : Well, you’ve got the rest of the bunch going some, 
anyway. 

Victoria: I haven’t seen a single’ one go. 

Jennie : Boys, do let up on the josh. It ain’t fair. 

Victoria : In England we say “It is not fair.’’ 

George : "So do we, in America, when we want to put on lots 
of dog. 

Victoria : Put on dog ? Put dog on what ? 

Jennie: Oh, don’t be stuck up, Vic. 

Victoria : Why, I’m not. I’m sure I’ve kept just as clean 
[examines dress] — 

Mabel: Now see here, kid— 

Victoria [runs to her eagerly, looking off] : A kid ? Oh, 
where ? I have always so wanted to see a baby goat! 

Hattie: Why, you! —you’re it—the kid! 

Victoria : Why, what peculiar children you are! First, you 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


67 


say I am a peach, then you say I am a little goat. Do I 
look so different from you? 

Gertrude : No, no! But— Oh, dear, this is the limit— 

Victoria: The limit of what? 

Gertrude: Oh, of surprises, I guess! We seem to be up 
against it— 

Victoria [staring behind her] : Up against what? 

John: Oh, Gert! You go chase yourself— 

Victoria: Oh, my! How could she do that? We couldn’t 
do that in England. 

Gertrude: Oh, it’s easy. He just wants me to fade away. 

Victoria [ horrified ]: What? 

Gertrude*. To make myself scarce, you know. 

Victoria*. No, I don’t know. I don’t understand. 

John: No, Gert, she don’t get you at all. 

Victoria: Why, I haven’t tried to get her. What would 
I do with her? I don’t want her. I’ve just listened— 

John [shaking head] : You don’t seem to catch on at all. 

Victoria [looking at ceiling and corners] : Catch on to what? 

John: Why, to the line o’ gab we’ve been putting up! 

Victoria [still looking] : I didn’t see you putting up any 
line ? Where is it ? Maybe I could catch on if you’d 
show it to me. 

Frank : She gets my goat. 

Victoria: Oh, do I? Where is it? Do let me see. 

John : He’s missing, Victoria. All I want Gert to do is 
to break away and give her little brother a chance. 

Victoria [looking from him to Gertrude, and sizing them 
up] : Are you her little brother? How can you be, when 
you ’re such a large boy, and she’s so very small ? 

John: Well, anyhow, I want her to pull in her horn— 

Victoria: She didn’t show me any horn. 

John : And go away back and sit down. 

Victoria: Oh, I see! [Looks back.] Back there, I suppose. 
But why can’t she stay here with me ? 


68 DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 

John: Well, because there’s no use of her trying to stuff 
you— 

Victoria: Stuff me? Why, she didn’t. She never offered 
me a thing to eat. 

Frank: Say, John, come off. You ain’t in it with her. 

Victoria*. In it? In what? I’m not in anything but this 
room! How can he be in with me when I’m not in any¬ 
thing myself? 

Henry: You’ ve hit it—right on the head! 

Victoria [searching floor remorsefully] : Hit it? Hit what? 
Oh, I didn’t mean to. 

Mabel: You didn’t hit anything, Victoria. That’s just 
Henry’s way of saying you ’re up to snuff. 

Victoria: Up to snuff? But I’m not, you know. I hate 
snuff. It’s not nice at all. 

Hattie : Now you ’re shouting! 

Victoria: Shouting? Pardon me. I thought I was speak¬ 
ing very low. 

Gertrude: Victoria, when you glue your lamps on this 
bunch— 

Victoria: Lamps. I have no lamps with me. Are we ex¬ 
pected to bring them? And I do not seem to see any 
bunch— 

Frank: We ’re sure up a tree. 

Victoria: I don’t see any tree, either. 

Fred : Just the same, kids, the girl’s got the goods all right, 
if we could only make her open up. 

Victoria : What do you mean ? I have no goods. 

Mabel : Good-night! 

Victoria : Why, it ’s only morning. You are n’t going to bed 
in the daytime, are you ? 

Mabel : Not on your tintype. 

Victoria : Certainly not, for I have no tintype. They went 
out of fashion in England years ago. 

Fred: Well, this makes me tired. I’m going to beat it. 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


69 


Victoria : Beat what ? 

John [taps head significantly] : Nobody home! 

Victoria : Where ? 

John [still tapping] : At your house. 

Victoria : Oh, but you are mistaken. My father and mother 
are both home. 

Jennie : Oh, what a girl! Get on to her hair— 

Victoria [shrinking hack in alarm] : Oh, don’t! 

Jennie: I didn’t mean— 

Fred: Dry up, Jennie. Every time you open your mouth 
you put your foot in it! 

Victoria: Oh, my! Do you, really? How can you? 

Jennie : He ’s feeding you taffy! 

Victoria: Why, no, he isn’t. I haven’t even seen any. 

Gertrude: If I had the dough, I’d buy me a rig just like 
yours. 

Victoria: Dough? Do you buy things with dough over 
here? 

Gertrude : Sure thing! 

Victoria*. What kind of dough? 

Gertrude: Any old kind we can get. 

Victoria: Isn’t that handy? I’m sure father will be 
pleased to learn of" it. We always had to have real 
money in England. 

Mabel: Say, kids, I wish mother could see her. Wouldn’t 
she just eat her up? 

Victoria [in real alarm] : Oh, my! Are there real canni¬ 
bals here? 

Mabel : Oh, no, no ! I meant she’d fall all over you. 

Victoria [still alarmed] : Is she heavy ? 

John: The dickens! 

Mabel: I meant she’d—she’d—well, she’d put you 
up as the swellest piece of calico that ever came over 
the pond. 

Victoria : But I ’m not a piece of calico, you see. And I 


70 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


did n’t come over any pond. I came across the big Atlan¬ 
tic Ocean, and I— 

Enter Miss Thompson. 

Miss Thompson: Well, children, how are you getting 
along ? 

John: Bum! 

George : Swell! 

Fred : Punk! 

Victoria: If you please, Miss Thompson, what language do 
you speak in this school? 

Miss Thompson [in astonishment] : Why, the English lan¬ 
guage, of course! 

Victoria: It isn’t a bit like ours. Why, I can scarcely un¬ 
derstand a word they say. 

Miss Thompson [still astonished]: You can’t? Ah, I see! 
It’s the slang—the dreadful slang the scholars use—that 
has bothered you. If you only knew how hard I fight 
to weed it out! Maybe you can help me. It is n’t good 
English, Victoria—in fact, we can hardly call it English 
at all. They fairly murder the language. 

Victoria : I would not like to say they’ve really killed it, 
Miss Thompson, but it is very badly bruised and 
wounded. 

Jennie: Why, Miss Thompson, she couldn’t get next— 
that is, I mean she wasn’t wise to— Oh, dear, I 
mean— 

Miss Thompson: Yes, Jennie, you see already how hard it 
is to break yourself of the bad habit of wounding the good 
old English language. I hope this will be a lesson to 
you all, and that you may learn of this little girl how 
to use, and not abuse, your own mother tongue. Will 
you try? 

Boys: Watch our smoke! 

Girls: Bet your neck, Miss Thompson. 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


71 


Miss Thompson: You see, Victoria, liow strong the habit 
has grown. Be very careful not to adopt their strange 
language, but to hold closely to your own. 

Victoria: I will. 

Miss Thompson : Then let everybody take their places. This 
way, Victoria. 

George : Everybody hike! 

[All scramble off the stage, following Miss Thompson 
and Victoria.] 


THE LOST COLORS 

Characters: Two girls and one bay. 

Scene: Stage with desk near back and three chairs. Anna 
enters alone, walks to desk and looks over the books and 
papers on it eagerly. 

Anna: Miss Nelson said she would leave our breast-knots 
on the desk for us, so that we could get them and wear 
them this evening. She wanted to be sure that every¬ 
body would know who were the three she had chosen to 
be her ushers at the entertainment. But I guess she 
hasn’t quite finished them yet. Anyway, I don’t see 
a scrap of pink and green anywhere here. We are so 
anxious to show our colors to everybody as having won 
the best marks in the school that I hope she ’ll be sure 
to get them here on time for us to get a little used to 
them ourselves before we show them off. It wouldn’t 
do for us to act too proud, Maud and Will and I. I 
wonder where I left my paper. I’ve just about time, 
I guess, to sit down and finish my writing before the 
others come. Here it is. 

[Looks all around cautiously, to see if anybody is coming, 
then sits, and writes busily. After a pause, stops 
and consults dictionary for word, then resumes writ¬ 
ing. Maud enters, left, coughs, but Anna does not 
look up. Coughs more loudly. No reply. Walks 
to desk quietly, clears throat. No reply.] 

Maud [when beside desk, after repeated failures to attract 
Anna’s attention] : What are you doing, Anna? 

Anna [ frightened ]: O-o-o-o-h! [Jumps up, holding paper 
against front of dress.] Why, Maud, how you startled 
me! What in the world made you keep so still about it ? 

72 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


73 


Did you have to come in “like a thief in the night?” 

Maud : Still ? Why, I coughed, and coughed, and coughed! 

Anna [counts on fingers] : Coughed, and coughed, and 
coughed! That makes three times! [Maud nods.] Well, 
they must have been little teenty baby coughs, for I 
did n’t hear you, anyway, and you nearly frightened me 
out of my wits! [Sits again, preparing to write.] 

Maud : Did n’t mean to, I’m sure! Beg your most humble 
pardon. 

Anna [writing]: Oh, that’s all right, Maud. I just didn’t 
hear—that’s all. 

Maud [searching desk] : Why, where are our colors? 

Anna [not looking up] : Not here yet! 

Maud [astounded]: Not here yet? 

Anna : No. 

Maud : Strange! I know they are all ready, for I saw Miss 
Nelson tying the last one, and heard her say, “There! 
the badges for my ushers are all ready!” Where can 
they be, I wonder, and why aren’t they here? [Sits 
left] 

Anna : Don’t ask me! But they ’ll be here on time, we may 
be sure of that! 

Maud [a little dubiously] : I’m sure I hope so. Wonder 
where Will is! Have you seen him? 

Anna: Not since noon. [Keeps on writing throughout con¬ 
versation, not looking up.] 

Maud : Will’s a pretty decent sort of a boy, don’t you think? 

Will [entering at back unperceived] : I sure do! 

Maud : There ’s nothing like having a good opinion of your¬ 
self and letting others know it—is there, Anna ? 

Anna [not looking up]: No! 

Will [tries to look over Anna’s shoulder, but she keeps paper 
cowered with hand]: 

Why so busy here, fair lady? 

Prithee, why so busy now? 


74 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Why do wrinkles, deep and shady, 

Cloud thy young and placid brow? 

Why do— 

Maud: Never mind, Will. She won’t tell you. And, do you 
know, our colors aren’t here yet! 

Will [surprised] : They aren’t? [Walks to chair at right.] 
Maud : Not a sign of them! 

Will [looks hack toward desk] : Strange! Are you sure 
they aren’t here somewhere? 

Maud: Positive! We’ve looked everywhere. 

Will: How long have you been here? 

Maud: Oh, not long! Anna was here writing when I came. 
Why? 

Will: I was just wondering if anybody else could have 
picked them up. 

Girls [together] : Oh, my! 

Will: They could, you know! 

Maud: Yes, and they would, you know, just to tease us, if 
they happened to see them. How long were you here 
before I came, Anna? 

Anna [rousing from writing again] : What? 

Maud : Nothing—only— 

Anna: Well, only what? 

Maud: Do hurry up and get through with that writing! 
Anna [writing fast] : Um-humph! 

Will [to Maud] : What is she writing, anyway ? 

Maud [shrugging shoulders] : Ask her! 

Will: What are you writing, Anna? 

Anna : Why—er—a history. 

Maud J ‘[t°9 e ther, in amazement ].: A history ? 

Anna: Yes, a history—h-i-s-t-o-r-y! 

Will [pulls dictionary from pocket and begins to search] : 
H-i-s-t-o-r-y. 

Maud: But, Anna, a history of what? 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


75 


Will [reads definition]: “A history is the record of the lives 
of great men.” 

Maud: Great men? [He nods.] Humph! What about 
women ? 

Will [consults dictionary]: It doesn’t mention them. 

Maud : That book must be terribly out of date. Women play 
as much part in making history as men do. Look at— 

Will: Yes, yes, we won’t argue the matter, Maud. I ’ll 
put women down, too, so I won’t forget next time. [Scrib¬ 
bles in dictionary.] 

Maud: But what are you writing a history of, Anna? 

Anna [hesitatingly] : Oh—of—of our school, I guess. 

Maud : ^ ur sc ^°°l- 

Anna : Exactly! School. Shall I spell that, too ? 

Will [searching dictionary] : Please! 

Maud: Oh, don’t! We’ve all had our spell of that! But, 
Anna,— 

Anna : Well! 

Maud : What made you— 

Anna: I suppose I am foolish to even think of trying to 
write it, but I do so love the old school, and some day 
we ’ll grow up. I shall like to have done a little some¬ 
thing to keep its memory alive. 

Will [walking toward her] : Read it to us, Anna. 

Anna [covering paper with hand]: By-and-by, maybe. 

Maud [walking to her]: Isn’t it finished yet? 

Anna: Finished? Dear me, no! Just begun. [They try 
to read over her shoulder.] But, I guess I won’t put any 
more time on it just now. [Rises.] 

Will : But do let us see it. [Holds out hand.] 

Anna [holding it close to her] : Oh, no, no, no! 

Maud : She must be putting in all our faults and failings to 
go 4 ‘thundering down the ages.” But you ’ll let me see 
it, won’t you, Anna? [Coaxingly.] 


76 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Anna: Oh, I just couldn’t, Maud. Not now, anyway. 

Maud : Why ? 

Anna: Oh, just—just—just—just because. 

Maud: I declare it must be a record of all my black and 
desperate deeds of daring. 

Will: Mine, too. She \yon’t let me stand on the same side 
of the room. Read it to us, Anna, if you can’t trust us 
with the paper. [Anna shakes head.] 

Maud: Oh, yes, do—please! 

Will*. Can’t you see how we are devoured by our curiosity? 
Do read it to us! 

Maud : Like a good little girl! 

Anna : Don’t tease me, Maud. I just can’t! 

Will: Can’t read it? Why? Is it written in Greek, Latin, 
or Hebrew; Chinese, Hindoostanee or pig latin? 

Maud : Or did you use words too long to be pronounced with¬ 
out a dictionary? [Anna shakes head.] 

Will : I see! It ’s a secret history, like the lodges have—to 
be kept under the seal of eternal silence. 

[While they are talking, Anna hides paper inside one 
of her hooks on the desk. She is very sly about it, 
hut Will sees her and motions to Maud, to call her 
attention. She nods wisely. Anna does not know 
they see.] 

Maud: Well, it certainly ought to be worth keeping. Just 
think how famous this school will be some day, when we 
have all done something wonderful like—like—like— 

Will : Like writing histories— 

Maud: Yes, thank you, Will, for helping me out. 

Will [sits in chair carelessly] : Oh, this school could never 
get along without boys, anyway! 

Anna: Humph! I wonder now! I guess if we had a 
chance— 

Will: Humph! [Jumps up.] Where’s that history? 
[Goes to desk, searching hooks. Anna follows, gets 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


77 


between him and desk, motioning him back.] A school 
without boys would be like a house without a stove. 

Girls [ together ] : Humph! 

Maud [walks to desk, Anna watching her narrowly] : I do 
wish we could find our colors! [Anna walks slowly after 
her.] 

Anna [relieved] : Oh!—the colors! So do I. [Turns back 
to front.] 

Will [walks toward Maud] : Certainly the colors! Where 
can they be, do you think? 

Anna [looks over shoulder at them uneasily] : They are not 
anywhere there. I have looked very thoroughly. I am 
sure that Miss Nelson hasn’t brought them yet, or else 
that somebody else found them first. 

Will [at desk with Maud] : But you may have overlooked 
them. Two heads, you know, are better than one. 
[Searches books.] 

Maud: Yes. One never can tell what they may turn up— 

Anna [going back to them, nervously] : Please don’t dis¬ 
turb my books, Maud. 

Will [with wry face] : Suppose that means me, too! 

Anna [laughingly, but uneasily] : Indeed, it does. 

Will [walking toward front again] : Well, then, Maud, what 
were you going to say a while ago? Pardon my inter¬ 
ruption, won’t you, and go on with your speech. It was 
so interesting. * 

Maud [Anna watches her so closely and suspiciously that 
she, too, gives up and walks toward front] : Must have 
been! 

Will : Well, it was—really! Please go on! [Sits in chair 
at left.] 

Maud [sits in chair at right] : Oh, I guess there was nothing 
more to it. 

Anna [site near desk, as if on guard]: Oh yes there was, 
Maud. You weren’t nearly through with it. 


i 


78 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Will : No, indeed ! 

Maud: Well, then, let me see. What was it I was talk¬ 
ing about? 

Will: Why, er—er—about—er—er—what was it, Anna? 

Maud: I thought that was about the extent of your great 
interest. 

Will: But I was awfully interested, Maud—honest, I was. 
But I got so concerned over those colors,— 

Anna : Yes, indeed—those colors! 

Will : What was it about, Anna, if you know so much more 
than I do about it? 

Anna: Why, it was about—about—about— Oh, yes, I 

know! It was about our school, and how famous we 
were going to make it, some day, and the importance of 
the history, and all that! 

Will : Of course! I knew that’s what it was all the time, 
but I didn’t think you would know. 

Girls [together, laughing ] : Of course! 

Maud: Isn’t that the boy of it? 

Will: Well, now, Maud, surely you will go on and say 
your little say. 

Maud: Well, I ’ll try; if I can only remember what I was 
going to say. 

Will: Isn’t that the girl of it? 

Maud [glaring at him] : Oh, yes! I know now. I was just 
thinking that when our school becomes real old, and 
everybody all over the country is talking about it, you 
know, they will point with pride to everybody who ever 
studied here—especially the women— 

Will : Humph! Women ! 

Anna: Yes, and then they will be sure to add: 44 Too bad 
the boys were not more brilliant when all the girls have 
turned out to be such wonders! ’ ’ That shows how much 
brighter women always are than men! [As she speaks 
she rises and walks toward front, forgetting the desk. 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


79 


Maud sees her opportunity and slips hack to the desk 
to search for paper.] 

Will [trying to hold Anna’s attention, so that Maud may 
find paper] : Indeed, you ’re very much mistaken, Anna. 
That shows how little you know of human nature! In¬ 
stead, it will be this: [Maud drops hook with a crash, 
and Anna jumps and hurries to desk.] 

Maud [walks to front, trying to appear innocent] : That’s 
the time I stopped you, Will. 

Will: It isn’t polite to interrupt, Miss Maud. 

Maud : It ’s only tit for tat. [Anna replaces hook and walks 
to front again.] 

Will: Listen! This is what they will say: “The whole 
work of that school has been turning boys into men. It 
found the girls so bent on showing off that they were— 
impossible! ’ ’ 

Maud [slipping slyly to desk] : Anybody would know a boy 
said that. 

Anna [following her suspiciously] : Of course! 

Will: Why not? A girl would be sure to try to keep it 
covered up. 

Girls [together, walking toward front]: Humph! 

Will [attempts to hack toward desk] : Well, isn’t it true? 

Anna [following him, suspiciously] : What they really will 
say is this: “What good are boys anyway?” And the 
answer will always be: “Why, you know, they aren’t 
any good—only for variety!” 

Will [walking toward front] : Well, here’s one that will 
make everybody "admit that he got a mighty good start 
in this man-mill, anyway, and that he himself was more 
than a match for a hundred girls! 

Girls [turning hacks on him — Will in center of stage, Anna 
at right, Maud at left] : Humph! 

[Will grasps the situation and slips to desk.] 

Will: Where are those colors, anyway? [Searches desk. 


80 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Anna rum to him, but too late. He finds paper, and 
waves it triumphantly in aar.] Found! Found! 

Maud [turning eagerly]: The colors? 

Will: No, the history! [Holds paper high above head, 
Anna trying to get it.] 

Maud [running to them] : Oh, good! good! Give it to me, 
quick. 

Will: Now, Maud, we will see what our fond schoolmate 
has had to say about us—eh? Now we shall see what 
future generations are to have the privilege of reading 
about the dear old school we love. Now we shall see— 

Maud: Look out! She ’ll get it again! Hand it here, Will, 
quick! 

Anna [pleadingly] : Please give it back to me, Will. Don’t 
let Maud see it. 

Maud [surprised]: Oh, it’s about me, then, is it? [Re¬ 
proachfully.] Why, Anna! 

Will [goes to unfold it] : Let me see. 

Anna [trying to take it, very nervous and excited] : Oh, 
please don’t read it! 

Will [holding it behind back] : Don’t worry, Anna. I 
won’t read it out loud. I won’t let Maud hear a single 
word of it. I ’ll just— 

Anna [alarmed] : But I don’t— [Maud has slipped back 
of Will, and now gets paper.] 0 Maud! Maud! please 
don’t let Will get it again! 

Will: Well, what do you think of that? It’s about me, is 
it? [Tries to get it.] Let me see, Maud. 

Maud [holding it behind back] : No, I feel sure it’s about 
me. You can’t have it, Will! 

Anna [slipping behind Maud and getting it] : Indeed, you 
can’t, Will! 

Maud [reproachfully] : O Anna! 

Anna [putting paper hastily in dress] : It’s safe now! 

Will : Two girls against one boy! I don’t think it ’s fair. 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


81 


Anna: A girl and a boy against one girl! I don’t think 
it’s fair, either! 

Maud: Against one girl and a sheet of paper, you mean. 
Will [shaking head and sighing] : Yes—a girl with a his¬ 
tory ! 

Maud: Not only that, but a history that she admits is not 
finished. 

Will: Shocking! What will she come to? 

Anna : To school, till she finishes! And anyway it’s a his¬ 
tory of her own. 

Maud : And about me! 

Will: No, about me! 

Maud: Me! 

Will : Me! 

Anna [teasingly] : Don’t you wish you both really knew? 
Both [eagerly ]: Yes! 

Anna : Maybe it’s all about me! 

Maud : Oh, no! I’m sure it ’s not. 

Will*. Of course not! That would be too conceited for a 
student of our school! 

Maud: Oh, my yes! We’d have to change our colors, for 
I know they’d droop with shame! 

[At the word “colors” all look eagerly toward desk, 
then shake heads disappointedly.] 

Will : We’d have to change our motto, and we’d have to 
change our name! 

Maud : For of course our dear old school could not make so 
proud a claim— 

Will : And our dear, good, faithful teachers could not hold 
their heads the same— 

Maud : If a student should thus ever boldly sound her own 
fair fame! 

[After each line of the alone rhymes, Anna has stepped 
forward and opened her lips to speak; but the others 
have cut in and she has stepped back again to listen 


82 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


to another line. After this last one, she turns to Will 
and listens a moment for him to continue the jingle 
before she speaks.] 

Anna: Well, have you really and truly finished? 

Will : Finished ? Should say not! 

Maud: Just begun, Anna dear. Listen now and hear the 
rest. 

Anna: Spare me! Oh, spare me! [Pause.] Do you know, 
I’m getting really anxious about our colors. I’m afraid 
somebody else may have taken them to tease us. Had n’t 
we better go see Miss Nelson and find out what she did 
with them? We simply can’t be ushers without showing 
our colors. 

Maud : No, indeed! And Miss Nelson took such pains with 
them, too. 

Anna: Shall we go? 

Will: Certainly! With pleasure, Miss Anna!—if you will 
first let us read that important document you have so 
securely locked up in the secrecy of your garments. 

Maud: Or else read it to us. ’T is n’t nice for one friend 
to have secrets from the others. Is it, Will? 

Will : Not a bit nice—for the others! 

Anna [reluctantly] : Well, I would read it to you, if I were 
/ not afraid— 

Maud: Afraid? [Anna nods.] 

Will : Of what ? 

Anna [hesitating]: Afraid you’d laugh! 

Maud: Laugh? [Anna nods.] 

Will: Why? Is it funny? 

Anna: I don’t think so, but you might make fun of it. 

Maud: We won’t! 

Anna [looking from one to the other] : Honest? 

Will : We ’ll be as solemn and sober as owls. 

Anna [dubiously] : But owls hoot! 

Maud: We won’t! 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


83 


Anna [looking from one to the other] : Honest? 

Both [together] : Surely! 

Anna [takes paper from dress and reads. They sit and listen 
eagerly. She stands at center, Maud sits at right, Will 
at left.] : 

Our school is just the finest place 
We know in all the land; 

We come each day with smiling face 
To join a smiling band; 

We know that education’s power 
Will help us while we live, 

And so we study every hour 
To gain all school can give. 

We never may be great or wise, 

Nor do heroic deeds; 

But we will do our best to rise, 

For he who tries succeeds; 

Thus we ’ll do credit to our school 
And teachers, every one; 

Drinking each day at learning’s pool 
Till all school work is done. 


^[together, clapping hands]: Good! Good! 
Isn’t it simply fine? 


Maud 
Will 
Maud: 

Will: Did you really write it all yourself? 

Anna [showing paper] : See! Isn’t it my writing? 

[They both look eagerly.] 
Maud : It surely is. Who would have dreamed that we’d 
have a real, sure-enough poet in our school ? 

Will : But why do you call it a history ? 

Anna: Isn’t it—so far as it goes? 

Will : Well, yes—I guess it could be called that. But you 
girls sit down now and let me speak my little piece. 

Girls [together] : Piece? 


84 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Will: Surely! Think I can’t? [Maud resumes seat, while 
Anna takes Will’s.] Now, ladies, you have both been 
very good to-day— [they smile at each other] —while one 
of you, to my surprise and possibly her own, has proven 
herself to be a poet—a wonderful poet! [Looks at Anna, 
who hangs head.] Therefore it becomes my duty, as the 
only man present— 

Girls [together] : Ahem! 

Will : —to exercise the masculine privilege and reward you 
according to your deserts. I have here some prizes which 
I hope you may prize— [takes two breast-knots from 
pocket, holding them up ]— 

Girls [together, jumping up]: Our colors! Our colors! 

Anna [reprouchfidly] : And you had them in your pocket 
all this time! 

Maud : And let us keep looking for them! 

Anna: Isn’t that just like a boy? 

Will [innocently]: I couldn’t help your looking for them, 
could I ? 

Anna: You might have told us. 

Will: Then I wouldn’t have had any reward “For a Good 
Girl.” Now, you see, Anna, I will pin this on^you— 
stand up, please!— [she rises, and he pins on breast- 
knot with much elaborate “fuss”] —and tell you how 
much I hope that you may live to be a hundred years old 
and write forty poems every day, each one better than 
the last! [Anna bows, laughing.] And you, Miss Maud, 
as I pin it on you— [she rises while he repeats action] 
—it is with the hope that you may study in eight schools, 
and yet at the end still like our own the best! [Maud 
bows, laughing.] Mine, I will stand as a flag-pole on 
the schoolhouse and wave forever in honor of the dear 
old school. [Steps on chair, waving breast-knot over 
head, as all laugh.] 

[If there is no curtain, All leave stage laughing.] 


THE CAMP-FIRE GIRL 


Characters : 

Kate, A Camp-Fire Girl. 

Maud, disguised as a “Cow Girl” in khaki suit, som¬ 
brero, etc. 

Julia, in Indian costume. 

Dick, a Small Boy in Brownie costume . 

The last three should wear masks. 

Scene : A camp fire. Dim light. Kate, with book of wild 
Indian stories , sits on a log beside fire, reading. 

Kate [alone] : Gracious! What a book! I wish to goodness 
I’d left it on the shelf in the library! Indian stories, 
indeed! and the very wildest of the wild! They fairly 
make my hair stand on end, and my flesh creep like a— 
something or other that better be nameless. Yet, some¬ 
how, I can’t tear myself away from it so long as it’s 
here! It ’s just like it used to he 

[Pokes fire with long stick.] 
when I was a kid—Oh, mercy ! I mean “a child of ten¬ 
der years!” What if Miss Prim heard me using that 
terrible word! Wouldn’t she just— [hesitates for word] 
—well, she just would, anyway! 

[Pokes fire again.] 

Dear me! this fire! What if it should go out on me en¬ 
tirely, and I should be left all alone in the cold and dark 
—ugh! It’s all right to be a Camp-Fire Girl in the 
broad open light of day, with a jolly bunch—er, I mean 
crowd—to help you earn your beads and their honors, 
but to be left to guard the fire in the dead of night— 
well, maybe not the dead of night, but it’s dark enough 
to be dead, anyway, and I feel as if I were half a ghost 
85 


86 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


myself. It’s more than I bargained for when I paid 
my little dollar! 

[Begins to search ground for book.] 
Where’s my book? I can’t live if I read it, and I 
don’t seem to be able to live if I don’t! Bad scrape I’m in! 

[Noise out left.] 

What’s that ? I’m sure I heard something! Maybe it 
was just my own heart pounding! 

[Looks off left awhile, shading eyes and peering with 
frightened expression); then returns to search for 
book.] 

Where is that book? Wish I had courage enough to 
throw the old thing in the fire where it rightfully belongs. 
But—courage—me ? Humph! I have n’t courage enough 
to even breathe out in the open where anybody could 
hear me! And that ’s true, too! I ’m gasping now, 
just like a dying fish! Yet I’ve not got sense enough to 
leave this book alone! Not me! [Finds book.] Good! 
Here it is! Now it’s me for the blood and thunder again! 
[Sits.] 

I do wish the girls would come back! Seems to me they 
have had time to buy a whole grocery store and have 
it put up in nickel packages by this time, with a clerk 
or two thrown in for good measure. 

Dick [looking in from left] : Boo ! 

[Dodges back before she sees him.] 
Kate [jumps up, looks all around nervously ] : I know I did 
hear something—once upon a time! 

[Resumes seat, ashamed of her fear.] 
When I grow up and write a book about Indians, it’s 
going to be just about real good, nice, friendly Indians, 
like Pocahontas, Hiawatha, Massasoit, Sitting Bull—Oh, 
no, I don’t mean him—but like—all the rest of the good 
ones! I ’ll cut out this scalping knife, war dance, eat- 
’em-alive stunts, and hand it over to the Boy Scouts 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


87 


They ’ll just revel in it, I suppose! That’s the boy 
of it! 

[Beads silently awhile, then aloud] : 
“Strip him to the skin,” said the Chief of the Fire 
Eaters, “Bind him to the tree, brand him with red-hot 
irons, till you force the bloody secret from his throat!”— 
ugh! It’s perfectly fascinating, of course! but some¬ 
how, I don’t seem to care about being fascinated any 
longer. 

[Throws book far aivay from her.] 
There! lie there and fascinate the worms and mosquitoes! 
Ugh! Worms! Wonder if there are many of them 
around the camp to-night! Believe I ’ll shoot them! 
And—mosquitoes! They’d make a really, truly Indian 
maid lay down her weary body and cover up head and 
ears, let alone a little light-haired play-Indian like me, 
whose pale face could n’t deceive anybody! 

[Picks up bow and arrow and attempts to shoot.] 
Humph! pretty Indian, I am! could n’t hit a barn door! 

Dick [again peeps in left] : Boo ! 

Kate [jumps and trembles]: Ugh! 

Dick [entering] : Boo! 

Kate [trying to drive him back, a/nd at the same time back¬ 
ing away from him] : Go ’way—go ’way, I tell you! 
Can’t you see I’m an Indian, a bad, bad, bloodthirsty 
Indian that lives by eating little goblin imps like you! 

Dick [straightens up defiantly] : Pooh! 

Kate: Please, little— little—whatever you are—go away and 
I—I won’t hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you, you 
know, but if you will insist on staying where you ’re 
not invited, why— 

Dick [with motion of hands] : Shoo. 

Kate [walking to fire, and assuming bravery and cheerful¬ 
ness]: Isn’t this just the loveliest camp fire? I just 
love to take care of the camp fires, all alone at night. 


88 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Dick [walking toward her] : Do? 

Kate [dodging him and walking to other side of fire nerv¬ 
ously] : Why, of course I do! They all say I’m the 
bravest girl in the camp, and that ’s why they leave me 
here to look after things! Big, bold, brave, pale-faced 
Indian, me! [Straightens up to full height.] 

Dick [pointing at her] : You? 

Kate [dodging his finger] : Sure—me! Who else ? Why, 
when they come back they ’ll all— 

Dick f looking around with interest] : Who? 

Kate: Why, Miss Nelson, our captain, and the girls! I 
belong to a big tribe of very fierce, cruel Indians, called 
—called—called— 

Dick : Sioux ? 

Kate: No, not Sioux! I— I —I can’t think of our name just 
now, but our war-cry is “Wohelo!” 

Dick : New ? 

Kate : Oh, well, not so very new. It means, you know, work, 
health, and love. “Wo,” from work, “he,” from health, 
and “ lo ” from love! Put them all together, you see, and 
they spell “Wo-he-lo.” 

Dick [sits] : True ? 

Kate : Why, of course it’s true! But I don’t think you y d 
better sit down. I—I—well, you see, I wouldn’t want 
to hurt you, but I’d have to if you did n’t run away, for 
that’s our Indian rules. [Pause. He does not move.] 
Where did you come from, anyway? 

Dick : Grew. 

Kate: Well, I suppose you had to grow, of course, like all 
the rest of us; but how did you come to be here in our 
woods? How’d you get into camp? 

Dick : Blew. 

Kate [sighs and shakes head in exasperation] : I guess you 
did! I do wish you’d blow out again. Are there any 
more like you where you came from? 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


89 


Dick [ nodding wisely] : Few. 

Kate [nervously] : Gracious! [Walks left, looking off, 
speaks aside.] I wonder if I look as white as I feel! 

[Takes mirror from pocket, looks at self.] 

Dick [looking over shoulder at her curiously] : You? 

Kate: This camping isn’t any too good for the complexion, 
but I feel that I’ve got thoroughly bleached to-night! 

Dick [as before , teasingly] : Do? 

Kate [replacing mirror in pocket and walking across stage 
nervously] : I do wish I knew something to do to 
amuse myself. It’s rather uncanny all alone here like 
this. 

Dick [offering gum] : Chew? 

Kate: Oh, I’d love to, but I don’t dare! You see it^s 
against our rules. Camp-Fire Girls don’t chew gum, you 
know. 

Dick [shaking head sympathetically] : Chew! 

Maud [off stage] : 

Down from the tree tops, 

Over the stream, 

Through the soft shadows, 

Sweetly I gleam, 

From the green branches, 

Through the moonlight 
Here I am coming, 

Coming to-night! 

Dick [jumping up] : Who? 

Kate: Oh, my! my! what’s that? [Calls off right.] Don’t 
come this way! It ain’t safe! I’m a bad Indian, and 
I’d just have to shoot, shoot you right through the heart! 

Dick [surprised, but feigning fear] : Whew! 

Kate [trying to adjust bow and arrow]: Which way does 
this thing go, anyway? 

Dick : Through! 


90 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Kate [working with it] : Through? Through what? Through 
where? Through how? 

Dick [laughing teasingly] : Pooh! 

[Maud laughs loudly off right.] 
Kate : Oh, dear! Just listen! I wonder if there are many 
of them! 

Dick [looking off right] : Crew. 

[Gestures with hands to indicate large numbers.] 
Kate : Oh, mercy, where T1 I go ? 

[Dick exits laughing.] 
What ’ll I do? How ’ll I handle ’em all? 

[Looks around suddenly.] 

Why, where’s he gone? 

Dick [off stage, teasingly] : Flew. 

Maud [enters right] : Why, hello here! If it isn’t a little 
bit of a pale-faced, make-believe, somebody or other, with 
a bow and arrow! 

[Kate tries to aim at her, nervously, but she does n ’t even 
see it.] 

Who are you, anyway? 

Kate [lowering bow at Maud’s threatening tone, and shaking 
with fright] : Why, I—I—I don’t know! 

Maud: Just what I thought! Rigged out in all that war 
paint and feather flummadiddle, you look as if you didn’t 
know! What are you trying to do, anyway, out here in 
these woods all alone? 

Kate : Alone! Why, I’m not alone! I’m—I’m—not alone! 

There’s just a lot of us here—dozens! 

Dick [off stage ]: Who? Who? Who? 

[Kate jumps and looks off nervously.] 
Maud [looking around skeptically] : Where? 

Kate : Oh, just—just—everywhere! 

Maud [sarcastically] : Up in the trees, I suppose—or behind 
the stumps; or maybe in the ashes! Humph! I like your 
nerve, but it don’t go down very well. Don’t you know 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


91 


it isn’t safe here in the woods alone? Lots of Indians 
around! 

Kate [shrieking] : Indians! 

Maud [nodding]: Real ones, you know, not just play ones 
with blue eyes and blonde hair like some I Ve seen—but 
real ones, and cowboys, too! 

Kate [as before ] : Cowboys? 

Maud: Yes, sure! The real thing! I came from a camp 
of them that’s got dozens and dozens of ’em, all wild 
and woolly! They all carry revolvers—see? 

[Shows hers, Kate dodges.] 

And scalping knives. 

[Takes knife from belt and flourishes it. Kate screams. 

Maud walks toward her.] 

And—and— 

Kate : Go ’way! Go ’way! 

Maud: Well, now, that’s a pleasant how-d’ye-do! I don’t 
call that very polite! 

Kate: I didn’t ask you to come here, anyway! 

Maud: I didn’t wait to be asked. I was looking for Red 
Rose. 

Kate [looking around ground ]: A red rose? I haven’t 
seen a sign of a rose around here. They don’t grow very 
well wild, you know. 

Maud : I mean an Indian girl I know! A peach of a looker, 
too! But my! dreadfully wild ! The Boy Scouts are all 
terribly afraid of her! 

Kate: I didn’t know the Boy Scouts were afraid of any¬ 
thing. 

Maud: Well, they aren’t, of ordinary things! But Red 
Rose isn’t an ordinary thing. They say even her own 
father and mother have been afraid of her ever since 
she was a tiny papoose, strapped to the old squaw’s 
back. 

Kate : Oh! 


92 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Maud: She’s a fierce one all right! [War whoop off left.] 
There she comes now. 

Kate: Oh, my! Oh, my! Don’t let her come here! 

Maud : Let her ? Humph! I’d like to see anybody not let 
Red Rose do anything in the world she undertook to do! 
You don’t know her! 

Kate : But, oh, dear! What' if— 

Maud : Besides, I want her to come. She’s my pal, my side 
partner, the best young squaw I know. Why, she ain’t 
afraid of anybody or anything in all this world—nor any 
other world she’s ever heard about. She’d just as soon 
scalp you as to look at you! 

Kate: Oh, my goodness! But what would she want to 
scalp me for? I—I—I never did her any harm. Why, 
I’ve never even seen her! 

Maud: Oh, she wouldn’t want to scalp you especially, so 
far as I know. She doesn’t care a cent who she scalps 
or does n’t scalp, or what they have or have n’t done! 
It’s just anybody, anywhere, so long as she keeps in 
practice. She has to scalp somebody or other every day, 
you know, just so’s not to forget how. She’s got scalps 
of about a million different people, I suppose, hanging 
around her wigwam already, just as pleasant souvenirs 
of course! [War-whoop off right. Kate jumps.] She’s 
a dandy! [Calls.] Whoo-oo-oo-oo! Here I am, Red 
Rose! Here by the camp fire! 

Julia [entering right with a hound]: Ugh! Ugh! Bad 
day! Heap much riding, heap much hunting, not a scalp 
for Red Rose—not one little bit scalp! Big Chief mad 
—ugh! Poor sick Red Rose! Heap tired! No good 
day! [Sighs.] 

Maud [slaps her on hack] : Cheer up, Red Rose! Here’s a 
real pretty little pale-faced maid—see the nice long hair! 
I’m sure she’d be glad enough to part with it to make 
you happy. 


4 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


93 


Julia [looking all around, sniffing eagerly] : Where? 

[Kate tries to hide, but Maud pulls her out.] 
Her? [Points finger at her scornfully, laughs mockingly.) 
Humph! [Pulls out strand of hair, examines it critic¬ 
ally, then shakes head. Kate screams.] 

No good! [Sits down by fire discouraged.] 

Maud: Oh, come, Red Rose, why not? 

Julia [scornfully] : ’Fraid girl! Pale-face! Red Rose no 
scalp ’fraid girls! 

Maud [stYs by her] : You must be mistaken, Red Rose! This 
is a very brave girl. Come here, you! 

[Kate has been walking about, eyeing them fearfully. 

Now comes to them timidly.] 

See, she wears an Indian costume much like yours. She’s 
not afraid of anything or anybody, she said so! [Kate 
hangs head.] Why, she was left here all alone, you see, 
as late as it is, to guard the camp-fire from—from—from 
bad cowgirls and naughty Indians. She’s very brave! 
Try her! 

Julia [gruffly] : She say, “Oh!” 

Maud: But she didn’t mean it. 

Julia [with some interest, looking at Kate] : Pretty hair. 

Maud: Of course she has pretty hair! And how nice it 
would look among all those scalps at your wigwam! 

Julia : Oh, much nice! Much nice! Heap fine! Cut—cut— 
cut zip—she say, ‘ ‘ Oh ! Oh ! ’ ’ much times. Red Rose 
run home with scalp heap glad! Eh? 

[Pantomimes the operation while she talks.] 

Maud: Exactly the way. 

Julia [rises and pulls knife from legging, sharpens on boot, 
grabs Kate’s hair] : Hold still, pale-face—heap still! 

Kate [screams] : O-o-o-o-h! 

Dick [runs in at left, gets between them and pushes Red Rose 
back] : Skidoo! 

Kate [throws arm around him] : Oh, you dear little boy! 


94 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Dick [innocently]: Who? 

Kate [crying hysterically ]: You have saved me! 

Dick: You? 

Kate: Yes, yes! This cow-er— cowgirl and this Indian— 
[they laugh] —well, I don’t see what you are all laughing 
at! The whole crew of you can— 

Dick: Crew? [They laugh again.] 

Kate : You laugh as though— 

Maud [throwing off mask]: “We were only teasing you!” 

Julia [throwing off mask] : “Just to see what you would 
do!” 

Kate [half crying, half laughing]: Oh, you girls! You 
girls! Maud and Julia! You naughty, naughty two! 
[Clings to both,] 

Dick : Two ? 

[Counts with finger, pointing to first one girl, then the 
other, then himself, looking perplexed.] 

Kate [grabbing him and pulling off his mask] : Three, for 
you count, too! Just Dickie, of course, but you scared 
me most to death! 

Maud: We didn’t mean to make it quite so bad as that, 
Kate; but it’s such fun breaking in a new girl, and we 
wanted to find out just how brave you were! 

Julia : And we have found out all right! 

Kate [with gesture of despair] : Poor me! I found out, too! 

Maud : What did she say, Dick, when you first ran in on her ? 

Dick [teasingly] : Boo-oo-hoo! 

Kate: Did I? Surely not me! 

Dick [points at her] : You! 

[Girls clap hands and laugh.] 

Kate*. Well, I don’t care! If you girls were here all 
alone at night—reading blood-and-thunder stories— you 
would n’t think it all so funny! 

Julia: We don’t now! You spoiled our fun when you 
wouldn’t let us scalp you! [Laughs.] 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


95 


Maud: Don’t tease her any more, Julia. Let’s call Miss 
Nelson and the girls. She’s certainly won her honors 
to-night! Wait till it’s yonr turn, Kate, to help break 
in a new girl! 

Kate: I ’ll read to her. 

Julia: Well, come on, let’s go meet the crowd and tell 
them how brave our new squaw is! 

[Kate starts to chase them off, and all exit laughing as 
Dick follows .] 

Dick [driving them]: Shoo!—shoo!—shoo! 


CURTAIN 


A COUNTRY COUSIN 


Characters : 

Belle, a City Girl, daintily and richly dressed. 

Bob, her Brother. Also nicely dressed. 

Meg, their Country Cousin. Shabbily and unfashionably 
dressed. (Her clothes should be especially shabby 
and out-of-date.) 

Scene: Any stage platform. 

Belle enters from right. Meg from left. They 
meet in center of stage. Meg holds out hand, 
and Belle turns haughtily away. 


Meg: 

Good morning!—Oh, excuse me, 

If I ’ve made a mistake; 

But aren’t you my cousin? 

I’m Meg, from Turtle Lake. 

Belle : 

Your cousin? I don’t think so! 

Meg: 

Why, Rob said she was here; [Looks left.] 

I don’t see any other! [Looks right.] 

Where can she be? Oh, dear! 

Belle : 

My name is Belle, but surely 

There must be some mistake; [Sneering.] 

I’m sure I’ve no relation 
Who lives at Turtle Lake. 

[Looks Meg all over, disdainfully.] 

Meg: 

You are Belle Brown? 

96 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


Belle [reluctantly] : 

Y—e—s, surely! 

Meg: 

Well, I’m Meg Brown, you see; 

Why, Belle, don’t you remember 
What friends we used to be ? 

Belle : 

Perhaps I once was foolish,— 

Most children seem to be; 

They change as they grow older,— 

At least it’s so with me. 

I cannot own relations 
In one-horse towns like that; 

I can’t know anybody 
Who wears that sort of hat. 

Meg [turns sadly away] : 

I see,—I see,—I’m sorry; 

I ’ll go find Bob, I guess; 

He likes his country cousin, 

And he’s just splendid. 

[Exits hastily left.] 

Belle [looking after her]: 

Yes! 

Bob’s always just that foolish, 

He ’ll like her well enough; 

But as for me, I really 

Prefer my friends less—rough! 

Enter Bob from right. 

Bob: 

Hello, Belle, where’s the cousin ? 

She must have left you quick; 

Say, ain’t she jolly? Really, 

That girl’s a regular brick! 

Belle [coldly] : 

I do not understand you,— 


98 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


A dowdy girl like her? 

You surely will not own her?— 

I ’ll not, I tell you, sir! 

Bob [surprised]: 

You won’t? Why, Belle, I always 
Thought you a downright snob! 

You don’t like this rich cousin? 

Belle : 

Rich? Quit your fooling, Bob! 

Bob: 

Why, Sister, I’m not fooling! 

Belle : 

But, Bob, she looks so green! 

Bob : 

Well, money ’ll change her color. 

Belle [impatiently] : 

Do tell me what you mean! 

Bob : 

Well, Belle, her mother’s brother, 

Or sister—don’t know which— 

Just left her all her money, 

And she is awful rich! v 
She’s got just heaps—Pa told me— 

Five times as much as we; 

[Belle covers face with hands.] 
Why, Sister, what’s the matter? 

Belle : 

I snubbed her, awfully! 

Bob [whistles ]: 

You did? 

Belle: 

Yes. 

You ’re a dandy! 

She ’ll never look at you! 


Bob : 


FOB ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


99 


Belle : 

I don’t like—poor relations! 

Bob [ teasingly ]: 

Perhaps she’s that way, too! [Looks left.] 
But here she comes! 

Meg [entering left,—to Belle] : 

Why, cousin, 

What makes you look so glum ? 

I ’ve just been buying popcorn— [Passes sack.] 

I thought I’d bring you some. 

Belle : 

Oh, thank you! You ’re just lovely! 

Bob [laughs] : 

The popcorn’s lovely, too! [Bows low.] 

I am so glad to see you 
I don’t know what to do! 

Meg : 

To see me—or the popcorn ? 

Bob : 

Well,—both! 

Belle : 

But mostly you! 

Meg [gravely] : 

You’ve changed your mind some, ain’t you? 
Belle [embarrassed] : 

Oh, I was—cross and—blue; 

I sometimes am! 

[Suddenly raises head frankly.] 
Forgive me! 

Meg [ delightedly, and kissing Belle impulsively]: 
Why, Belle, of course I will! 

And we must be forever 

Good friends and cousins still. [Looks right.] 
There’s Uncle—I must see him; 

Good-bye! 


100 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


[Runs off right, eagerly. Turns back at en¬ 
trance and waves hand to them, nodding 
and smilmg.] 

Belle: 

Good-bye! 

Bob: 

Good-bye! 

[Turning to Belle, when alone ]: 
Well, Sister, what about it? 

Belle [penitently]: 

She’s twice as good as I. 

Bob : 

Of course! 

Belle [ reproachfully ]: 

Now, Bob! 

Bob [stoutly] : 

I mean it! 

You ’re far too “stuck-up,” miss! 

Belle : 

Well, I ’ll like country cousins 
Forever after this! 

Bob: 

For sure? 

[Puts both hands on her shoulders, looking in 
eyes quest ioningly.] 

Belle [meets his gaze without flinching]: 

For sure! Now, Brother, 

Don’t say any more, I beg! 

Bob [taking hands down]: 

Well, “mum’s the word,” then, Sister. 

Come on! 

[Offers arm, with grown-up air.] 
Belle [looks up at him, smilingly]: 

Let’s go find Meg. 

[They go off right, arm in arm.] 


LIKE HIS NAMESAKE 

A Lincoln Birthday Play 


Characters : 

Abraham Jones, at eight, sixteen, and twenty-five years 
of age. {The two older easily taken by same person.) 
Grandfather Jones, an Old Man—Civil War Veteran, 
Billy White 

Johnnie Smith \ B ° y s ei 9 ht or nme y ears °f a 9 e • 

Bob 
Jack 
Jim 

Mr. Hunt, a Business Man. 

Mr. Graham, an Associate Business Man . 

Mr. Black, a Fellow Citizen of the two. 

Costumes : Modern. 

ACT I 

Scene : A Room. 

Grandfather Jones is discovered in a large armchair, with 
his grandson, little Abraham, on a footstool beside him. 

Abraham: Tell me a story, grandpa. 

Grandpa: A story, Abraham? Well, well, if you haven’t 
the biggest appetite for stories of any youngster I ever 
set eyes on! [Scratches head.] ’Pears to me I have told 
you all the stories I ever knew long ago. What kind of a 
tale do you want this time ? 

Abraham: Why, a true story, of course, grandpa! I don’t 
like any other kind. 


of fifteen or sixteen. 


101 


102 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Grandpa: So it’s got to be a true story, eh? Well,.I don’t 
know but you be about right, so far as that’s concerned! 
But, it ’pears to me, boy, that I have told you everything 
that ’s happened to me in all my born days,—you ’re 
always so crazy fer stories—stories! 

Abraham [after thinking a minute ] : Oh, I know, grandpa. 
Tell me why you called me such a dreadful name as 
Abraham. Mamma says you named me, so I s’pose you 
must have had a good reason for it. 

Grandpa : So you don’t like your name, eh ? 

Abraham: Indeed, I don’t! I just hate it. 

Grandpa : Well, I declare! But I tell you, my lad, I’d give 
a lot to be worthy of a name like that, for to my mind it 
is the grandest name in the hull world. 

Abraham: Why, grandpa? 

Grandpa : Because it was the name of the noblest and truest 
man that ever lived—that’s why! 

Abraham*. Do you mean Abraham in the Bible, grandpa? 
The man who was going to burn his little son Isaac 
because the Lord wanted him to? 

Grandpa: No, I don’t mean that one, Abe. Though you 
ought to be proud of your name on that account anyhow. 
The man I mean was an American—and he did n ’t live so 
turrible long ago, either. 

Abraham : Oh, tell me about him, please, grandpa. 

Grandpa: All right, child, I’ll just do that—and I don’t 
think you ’ll ever hate your name again. The name of 
this man was Abraham Lincoln. Now don’t you ferget 
it— Abraham Lincoln! 

Abraham: Of course I won’t forget it. [Repeats slowly: 
Abraham Lincoln—Abraham Lincoln .] 

Grandpa : Of course the name sounds a little strange to you 
now, but in a few years it will seem as natural to you as 
mine, for he was one of the greatest men who ever lived 
and his name wilf live on and on forever! 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


103 


Abraham: Was he very handsome, grandpa? 

Grandpa: Handsome? Well, I should say not! Indeed, he 
was so plain, and rough, and awkward, that some folks 
said he was the homeliest man they ever saw. 

Abraham : Gee, grandpa! Then what made him so great as 
you say he was ? 

Grandpa: You will learn sometime, Abe, that the world 
don’t care so very much for a man’s looks. It is what a 
man has inside of him that counts; and Abraham Lin¬ 
coln had the noblest soul and the kindest heart inside of 
his homely old body of any man that ever lived. 

Abraham : Where did he live, grandpa ? 

Grandpa : He was born in Kentucky, but when he was a boy 
about your size his father moved to Indiana, and that’s 
where he grew up. 

Abraham: He was awfully rich, wasn’t he? Great men 
always are. 

Grandpa : That’s where you ’re wrong again! He was a 
very poor boy, and lived in a miserable log cabin. He 
had to work very hard for what he had,—and I can tell 
you that was mighty little! He never went to school 
more ’n a year in his hull life; but he was bound to learn 
and be somebody, so he read and studied every book he 
could get hold of and by the time he was grown up he 
was ready to be a lawyer. Then he went to Illinois, and 
before long became mighty well known. 

Abraham: Are all lawyers great men, grandpa? 

Grandpa : Well, hardly, my boy! But Abe Lincoln, you see, 
was so good and true and honorable that he would have 
been great in anything! It wasn’t very long before 
everybody who knew him began to call him “Honest 
Abe,” and the name stuck to him all his life! Yes, and 
lots of people call him “Honest Abe” even yet! 

Abraham : Oh, how fine! Don’t you just wish people would 
call me “Honest Abe,” grandpa? 


104 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Grandpa: You couldn’t have a grander title, my boy,—nor 
one your old granddad would be prouder to hear you 
called; but you will have to earn the right to a name 
like that. 

Abraham: Earn it, grandpa? But I ain’t big enough to 
work very hard yet. 

Grandpa: Earn it not by work, Abraham, but by proving 
yourself worthy. 

Abraham: I see! Well, what did Abraham Lincoln —there! 
—I didn’t forget—do next, grandpa? 

Grandpa: Well, after a number of years, he became a great 
and famous man and was president of the United States! 

Abraham : Gee! 

Grandpa: Yes; and while he was president, the great war 
was fought that I’ve told you so much about. 

Abraham: The war that freed the poor slaves? 

Grandpa: Yes, Lincoln was the friend of the black men, 
and it was his Emancipation Proclamation that set them 
free. 

Abraham: How everybody must have loved him! Didn’t 
they, grandpa? 

Grandpa: A great many did, Abraham, but he had lots of 
enemies, too,—and some very bad ones! Indeed, he was 
shot and killed by one of them, right after the long war 
was over. 

Abraham: Oh, grandpa, how could they? 

Grandpa : There’s always lots of wicked people in the world, 
and it seems as though they can do ’most anything. Well, 
I hope you will like your name better after this— 

Abraham : Oh, I will! I will! 

Grandpa: And that you will grow up to be as near like 
your great namesake as you can, and never be unworthy 
of bearing his name. [Rises, laying hand on boy’s head.] 
But it’s a mighty big name to have to live up to, I can 
tell you. 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 105 

Abraham : But I 11 try, grandpa—IH try hard. Sure I 
will. 

Grandpa : I guess 111 turn in awhile now and get my nap. 
Old folks need lots of snoozing to keep the wheels 
a-running. [Exit left.] 

Abraham : I’m so glad grandpa told me about Abraham 
Lincoln, for now I In glad that my name is Abraham. 

Enter Billy and Johnnie on run, left. 

Abraham: Hello, boys! 

Billy : Hello, Abe. Come and go fishing. 

Abraham: Can’t! You stay here and play marbles. 

Johnnie: Stay here? Not on your tintype! We ’re going 
fishing. Come and go ’long! 

Abraham : I’d like to, Johnnie, but I can’t—honest, I can’t! 

Boys [both together] : Why not? 

Abraham: Mamma wouldn’t like it! 

Billy: Don’t tell her, then. She ’d never find out. 

Johnnie: Just ask her to let you come over to our house 
awhile. She’d never know the diff. Oh, come on! 

Abraham: No, I couldn’t do that. 

Boys [both together] : Why not? 

Abraham: Because it wouldn’t be right! 

Johnnie : Who cares about that ? ’Pears to me you ’re get¬ 
ting awful good all of a sudden? 

Billy: Ain’t sick, are you, Abe? 

Abraham : No, I’m not sick, but I can’t go, so it won’t do a 
bit of good to coax me. 

Billy: Rats! Come on, Johnnie. Let’s leave mamma’s 
baby boy alone—tied tight, tighter, tightest, to her apron 
strings! 

Johnnie: Yes, tied tight, tighter, tightest to her apron 
strings, poor baby boy! 

Billy: Bye-bye, ’ittie boy! 


106 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Abraham: Good-bye, boys! [They exit, laughing scorn¬ 
fully. ] Oh, dear! I would like to go fishing with them. 
They ’re sure to have a good time. But ever since 
Georgie Murray fell into the river, mamma don’t want 
me to go near the water for fear I ’ll get drowned. It’s 
awful foolish of her, of course, for I’m big enough to 
take care of myself—[ straightens up proudly, and struts 
back and forth] —but I wouldn’t be living up to my name 
if I deceived her, so I just couldn’t do it. 

Re-enter Grandpa. 

Grandpa: Abraham, I’m proud of you, I sure am. I was 
just a-comin’ back to get my paper, and heard every 
word the boys said, and you said, and— Well, I guess 
Abraham Lincoln needn’t be ashamed of his namesake 
to-day. That’s the way to begin, Abe. Just you stick 
to that course and, before you know it, people will begin 
to think of you as “Honest Abe,” too. 

[Puts arm around boy’s shoulder, and they start to walk 
off left.] 

curtain 

ACT II 

Scene : A Schoolroom 

Abraham, aged sixteen, at desk, studying. Bob, Jack, aivd 
Jim in chairs about the room, reading or writing. 

Jack: Come, Abe, haven’t you got that problem solved yet? 

Bob : It’s just as easy as can be when you know how! 

Abraham [laughing] : Yes, that’s the stieking-point. I 
don’t know how! 

Bob: Oh, Abe never can learn anything but history! 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


107 


Jack: Yes, he’s a genuine histori-maniac, if there is any 
such a thing! 

Jim: Well, there is—for Abe’s it, all right. What he 
doesn’t know about history is too insignificant ever to 
have really happened—that’s a cinch! Anyway, I ’ll bet 
he knows everything that Abraham Lincoln ever did, or 
said, or even thought. 

Jack : Probably better. Lincoln may have forgotten a great 
deal by this time. 

Abraham: Do keep still, boys—won’t you, please? I want 
to study. 

Bob: Do keep still, boys—won’t you, please? Abe wants 
to study! [All hut Abraham laugh merrily.] 

Jack: Study away, my son,—study away! And may the 
wisdom of all the dead and gone historians, and—and— 

Jim | [together]: Mathematicians! 

Jack: Oh, yes, mathematicians—descend upon you and fill 
your head to overflowing, and take my blessing with you! 

Bob : Never mind my blessing , Abe, but just take my solution 
of that problem and look it over. You ’ll easily see where 
your trouble lies. Wait a minute, and I ’ll get it for you. 
[Searches hook.] 

Abe: Thank you, Bob—but don’t bother, please. I wouldn’t 
look at it, anyway. 

Bob: Wouldn’t look at it? And why not? 

Abraham : It’s very kind of you to offer, Bob, and you 
mustn’t think I don’t appreciate it, but I must just 
dig it out for myself. 

Jim: Pshaw, Abe, I can’t, for the life of me, see what would 
be dishonest about that! You’ve probably made some 
little mistake that you don’t happen to see, and a glance 
at Bob’s paper would make it all right. 

Abraham [shaking head] : You know that’s not my way, 
boys. [Boys wink at one another.] 


108 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Jim: Don’t tease him, boys. He probably knows his own 
business better than we do—and if he won’t, he won’t! 

Boys [all together] : “And that’s the end on ’t!” 

Abraham [not looking up] : Thanks, boys! 

Bob : Gee, boys, I’ve got some letters to mail! Come on 
down to the post-office with me! 

Jim: Right you are, Bobby, my boy! You ’ll find us with 
you! 

Jack : And we ’ll leave this dear, studious old stupid of ours 
to the solitude for which he so evidently yearns! [Slaps 
Abraham’s shoulder.] Here we go, Abe, my boy— 

“ There were three boys sat on a tree— 

And they were bad as boys could be!” 

Console yourself for our absence, my child, and be as 
happy without us as you may find possible. Ta, ta! 

Abraham [laughs] : Trot along, fellows. Take all the time 
you want going, but—hurry back! Good-bye. 

Jim: That sounds like “Shoo fly!”—eh, boys? [All exit, 
laughing.] 

Abraham [alone] : I don’t see why this problem bothers me 
so. Nine times eight is seventy-six; seven times six is 
forty-two, and seven makes forty-nine. [Figures silently 
awhile.] Now that’s just the same result I had before, 
and it’s several hundred dollars from the correct answer. 
And that must make twenty times I’ve worked it, too, 
with the identical result. Nobody would want to trust 
me with his books if I lost money for him like that. Oh, 
dear! [Scratches head.] I believe I ’ll see it all in my 
sleep to-night—if I am not too excited to get to sleep. 
But the idea of letting such a simple little problem as that 
get the best of a fellow! I ’ll try it again. [Figures 
silently awhile.] There! that isn’t exactly the same 
answer I had before, but it’s just as far from the right 
one. I just believe I will look at Bob’s paper when he 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


109 


comes back. There surely would n’t be anything real dis¬ 
honest about that, after all. I have the principle all 
right, but must have made a miscalculation somewhere. 
I 11 never get it any different to-night, that’s sure, for 
the figures seem burned into my brain. But I would like 
to have it correct for the recitation, and—what earthly 
good would it do a fellow to know you had the principle 
of the work all 0. K., if you lost several hundred dollars 
for him because the figures did n’t follow out your prin¬ 
ciple? I wonder whether it is right to look at Bob’s 
paper! Any of the other boys would do it, and never 
give it a second thought. But, then, none of them have 
such a grand old name to live up to as I have. I declare, 
I don’t know what to do about it! Here they come back, 
already! I 11 have to make up my mind pretty soon, 
that’s sure! [Re-enter Boys, noisily.] Back again, boys ? 

Jack : Sure we are,—every single one of us! How you com¬ 
ing, Honest Abe? 

Abraham: Pretty slow, Jack—but I thank you for calling 
me that fine old name! It answers a question for me, 
and—I 11 try and prove worthy of it! 

Jim: Try? Pshaw, Abe!—what’s the matter with you? 
Don’t you know we always call you that among our¬ 
selves? You think so much about Lincoln that you are 
getting to be ever so much like him. We notice it more 
and more every day! 

Abraham: Do you mean it, boys? 

Bob: Why, sure we do! Just as though we didn’t know 
that it was your highest ambition! Can’t say you look 
much like the Great Emancipator, though! But you 
probably would n’t feel inconsolable about that! 

Jim [laughing] : I presume he 11 be content with the spirit¬ 
ual resemblance! [All laugh.] 

Abraham: You needn’t chaff, boys! I would be only too 
proud to look just like him. I think he is the handsomest 


110 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 

man that ever lived. He is my patron saint, you know! 
Now, I’m going to work that problem! 

Boys [all]: Good for Honest Abe! 

[They take hooks and seat themselves at study. Abe 
works awhile in silence.] 

Abraham [waving paper] : Hooray! I’ve got it! 

Bob : Abe’s got it, boys—got something—hold him! [All 
laugh.] 

Jack [grabbing him]: Tell us, Abe, have you got it awful 
bad? 

Abraham : No-sir-ee! Had it bad all day—got it good now. 
[Jack releases him.] You see, boys— [showing paper] — 
I was just calling a seven a nine all the time—that’s all! 

Jack: Might ’ve known you couldn’t get the right answer 
calling the figures bad names, Abe! [All laugh.] 

Bob : And if you’d looked at my paper, you’d have seen 
what was wrong hours ago. 

Abraham: I know it; but then something would have felt 
all wrong inside of me, Bob, and I’m ever so glad I 
didn’t do it! 

Bob : Of course! that’s the Lincoln of it! 

Jim: Don’t tease him, Bob. I think he is perfectly right, 
and only wish I had enough of the Lincoln spirit in me 
to be half as particular. Come, now, let ’s all give three 
cheers and a tiger for Abraham Lincoln! 

[All rise, and cheer lustily.] 

Bob: Now let’s give three more for Abraham Jones,— our 
“Honest Abe.” 

[Abraham sits down while the others cheer, and curtain falls.] 


Ill 




FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 
ACT III 

Scene: A Business Office. 

Abraham, now twenty-five, sits at a desk, writing. Mr. Hunt, 
at another near-by. Over Abraham’s desk hangs a large 
portrait of Lincoln. 

Mr. Hunt: How’s your wife, Jones? 

Abraham: She doesn’t seem to be improving a bit, Mr. 
Hunt. **■ 

Mr. Hunt : Who’s your doctor ? 

Abraham : Whitney. 

Mr. Hunt: Any good? 

Abraham : I think he is doing all that he can for her, thank 
you, Mr. Hunt, or, indeed, all that anyone could do. He 
says there is nothing that will do her any good but an 
operation. 

Mr. Hunt: Operation?—pooh!—nothing in that,—nothing 
at all! When these fool doctors find out they are n’t 
doing a patient any good, and don’t know what else to 
propose to get money out of his pocket, they order some 
sort of an operation. In nine cases out of ten it does no 
good at all—and in the one where it does, it’s just 
luck. 

Abraham : Still, when it seems the only hope— 

Mr. Hunt: NonsenseJ Wasn’t thinking of having it done, 
were you? 

Abraham : No, not seriously, because it would cost a great 
deal, and the state of my finances makes it impossible. 
But if I had any possible way of scraping the money 
together I’d have it attended to before to-morrow night. 

Mr, Hunt: It’s a good thing you haven’t got the money, 
Jones. This is one of the times when poverty is a bless¬ 
ing. Nothing in these operations, I assure you, sir- 
nothing but graft, pure and simple, on the part of these 


112 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


rascally doctors. Let the poor woman die a natural 
death, in her own bed—that’s my advice! 

Abraham [sadly]: And there being no other alternative, I 
shall be forced to take it, I suppose—but it’s pretty 
tough! 

Mr. Hunt: Yes, death is always a tough proposition, Jones, 
any way we can fix it, but it’s one we ’ll all have to face! 
[Rises.] I ’ll be back by and by, Jones. I’m going over 
to Stewart’s. [Exits.] 

Abraham : All right, sir! Mr. Hunt,’s a good fellow. He 
doesn’t mean to be heartless or cruel, but he doesn’t and 
can’t understand what this means to me. I hoped that 
he would offer to advance me the money on my salary, 
but, feeling as he does about it, it would be useless to ask 
him. Oh, my poor wife! Is there no way out of this— 
nothing but death! [Shudders and bows head on. desk.] 

Mr. Graham [entering]: Morning, Jones! Where’s the 
boss? 

Abraham [raising head] : Good morning, Mr. Graham. Mr. 
Hunt has just gone over to Stewart’s. He will be back 
soon, he said; but if you want him in a hurry, I can ring 
him up. [Turns to ’phone.] 

Mr. Graham : Oh, no, don’t do that I just want the bill for 
that last consignment of Weatherby’s, and I dare say you 
can give it to me as well as he! 

Abraham [going to other desk and sorting papers] : Cer¬ 
tainly, Mr. Graham! 

Mr. Graham: What’s the matter, Jones? You don’t seem 
quite yourself this morning. 

Abraham: Just a fit of the blues, I guess, Mr. Graham. 
Everybody seems subject to them at times. 

Mr. Graham: It doesn’t pay, though. Cheer up! [Slaps 
Abraham’s shoulder.] Everything always has come out 
all right, hasn’t it, Abe? [Abraham nods.] Well, isn’t 
that a pretty good sign that it always will ? 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


113 


Abraham : I hope so, Mr. Graham. Thank you! Here’s 
the bill! 

Mr. Graham: Thank you. [Looks it over.] All 0. K. Tell 
Hunt I called for it. Good morning! [In going, Mr. 
Graham drops leather wallet on floor.] 

Abraham : Good day! What a good, kind-hearted man that 
Mr. Graham is! For a moment I was tempted to ask a 
loan of him. I almost wish I’d told him what troubled 
me, anyway! He might have offered. [Telephone rings.] 
Now what? [Turns to ’ phone and picks up receiver.] 
Hello! . . . Yes, sir! . . . Yes, this is Jones speaking. 
. . . No, nobody but Mr. Graham! . . . Graham,— 
G-r-a-h-a-m— . . .Yes, sir!— . . . Why, he only wanted 
the bill of Weatherby’s last consignment. . . .Yes, sir, 
I gave it to him. . . .Yes, that was all. . . . Nobody 
else, sir! . . .At eleven, you say? . . . All right, sir! 
[Hangs up receiver and } in turning around, sees purse 
and picks it up.'] Ah, what is this? Mr. Graham’s 
purse, I presume. He must have dropped it as he left. 
[Examines it.] There is no name on it, and no card, hut 
nobody else has been in to-day, so it must he his. [Counts 
bills.] Five hundred dollars! Exactly what Dr. Whit¬ 
ney told me the operation and hospital expenses would 
cost. What wealth this would be to me just now,—wife 
and home, and life itself! And it is almost nothing to 
him! [Pauses, thinking deeply.] Of course he has no 
idea where he left it! [After a pause, closes the wallet 
resolutely and turns to Lincoln’s picture.] Forgive me, 
• if for one little moment I was half tempted to forget the 
noble name I bear, and all I owe to it. I’ve lived up to 
that name so far and, God helping me, I always shall. 
I ’ll get this temptation out of my hands as quickly as 
' possible, too. [Starts out. Meets Mr. Hunt.] 

Mr. Hunt: Where you bound for, Jones? 

Abraham: Mr. Graham’s office—be right back! 


114 


DIALOGUES AND PLAYS 


Mr. Hunt: All right! [Exit Abraham, hastily.] What an 
honest, steady fellow that Jones is! I’m glad I got hold of 
him instead of somebody else. He’s bound to make his 
way in the world, sometime, that’s sure. He’s worth 
every cent I pay him, and more; but as long as he 
doesn’t know it, I stand in no danger of losing him. . 
Get the best you can as cheap as you can—that’s my 
motto! He’s got a lot of old-fashioned notions and a 
queer kind of worship for his hero, Lincoln, but no one 
could think any the less of him for that. In fact, I don’t 
know but it adds to his market value. Ha, ha, ha! But he 
doesn’t know it! He says he is bound to live up to the 
name of Abraham, and nothing pleases him so much as 
to be called ‘'Honest Abe.” Well, he deserves it all right. 
[Looks left.] Why, what in the world has happened? 

Enter Mr. Graham and Mr. Black, carrying Abraham. 

They lay him on sofa. 

Mr. Graham : Well, Hunt, we thought for a minute it was 
all up with poor Abe! He was rushing across the street 
to return my purse, which I had dropped here, and not 
watching where he was going. He was knocked over by 
an automobile,—and—this was the result. We thought 
he would surely be killed, but I am sure he has been only 
stunned. 

Mr. Hunt: Jones, Jones,—do you know me? 

Abraham: Yes, I know you, Mr. Hunt. Don’t let my wife 
know about this. She mustn’t be worried now. When 
she does know, she will be glad that I lived up to my 
name, and was “Honest Abe” to the last. 

Mr. Graham: Nonsense, Abe— you are not going to die. 
[Turns to Mr. Hunt.] What is wrong with his wife? 

Mr. Hunt : She’s been ailing for a long time—all winter, in 
fact—and the doctors have made him believe that an 


FOR ENTERTAINMENT DAYS 


115 


operation is all that will save her. Fortunately, he 
hasn’t the means, and— 

Mr. Graham [sarcastically] : I see! [Bends over Abraham.] 
Listen to me, Jones. You must rouse yourself and take 
me to your wife, for we must get her to a hospital at 
once. Don’t worry about the expense. You just leave 
that to me. And as soon as you are able to work again, 
I need you* in my office. My private secretary has 
recently left, and I have been unable to find a man I 
could trust to take his place. But, thanks to this accident, 
I have found one now whom I shall be glad to have 
with me. 

Mr. Hunt: But— _ 

Mr. Graham: No “buts,” if you please, Mr. Hunt. Fortu¬ 
nately for me you have n’t the money to hold him at the 
salary I intend to give him. 

[Abraham reaches out his hand, which Mr. Graham 
grasps cordially.] 


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